Stitches
by The Yarn Shop
Summary: The Stitches AU is a project to rewrite SG-1 in a series of fluffy ficlets, changing one very important factor: Jack knits. And somehow, magically, this hobby makes everything better. Eventual Sam-Jack pairing, a lot of Gen teamfic included. Plus Cassie.
1. Casting On

Timeline: Directly after _Brief Candle_

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate. I do not own knitting. The End.

Author's Note: So, karmaaster is frequently my partner in Sam/Jack OTP-related crime. We routinely squee over them a lot because there's just too much potential for cute. Also, we routinely squee over knitting. Because it is cool. At some point, the two ideas were bound to collide. Thus, the Stitches AU was born.

--

Someday, Jack reflected, he would get Doc back for this. Because really, the entire fiasco was her fault.

Okay, so maybe Janet couldn't be blamed for the fact that he currently looked about sixty-five (which, granted, was a marked improvement from a few days ago). _That_ was the cake.

Damn cake.

But being quarantined in the Infirmary? Definitely her fault. Allowing the constant stream of visitors to waltz in without warning? Her fault again.

And the knitting was most _definitely_ her fault.

Everything would have worked out fine if Janet had just bitten the bullet and handled his rehab herself. But, much to Jack's misfortune (and, he suspected, Janet's relief), she was currently tied up with a plague-like thing that SG-4 had brought back from P3X-825. So Jack and his measly need to regain dexterity as the arthritis in his fingers began to ease were pawned off on Dr. March.

Jack knew the second he met Penelope March that this was going to prove problematic.

Penelope March was…everything you might assume someone named Penelope March would be. Between the reading glasses and the white hair pulled tightly into a bun and the well-practiced disapproving glare, she seemed a more likely candidate for the Headmaster of a stern British prep school than a physical therapist. What's more, whenever she made that particular tsking noise in the back of her throat, Jack _felt_ like little more than a kindergartener. A misbehaving one, at that.

As a result, Jack had been cowed into submitting to whatever physical therapy regime she deemed necessary with very little protestation. Except instead of little hand pumps or squishy balls, Penelope had calmly handed him two knitting needles and a ball of yarn.

His first reaction had been laughter – until, of course, he realized that Dr. Penelope March did _not_ joke.

Especially about knitting, it seemed.

So, he had taken the needles, swallowing the smart remark that was on the tip of his tongue when he saw Penelope's glare, and begun to knit – or attempt to, anyway.

His problem now was that he couldn't seem to _stop_.

At first, Dr. March had sat calmly at his bedside several hours a day, knitting alongside him as an example and saying little. But yesterday, she had left him to his own devices most of the day, only checking in twice.

Today, it had only been once.

Jack could now feasibly blow off the knitting. Except really, he couldn't. Knitting, as it turned out, was highly addictive. Up there with Fruit Loops and Class A Narcotics.

Which was how he had ended up here, stuck in an Infirmary bed and trying to make small talk with his team while a knitting needle stabbed him in the ass.

Oh yeah, Doc Fraiser was going to _pay_.

"O'Neill, are you well?"

Jack grimaced and surreptitiously tried to shift away from the needle digging into him. "Sure, T. Just wanna get out of here."

Daniel grinned. "I don't know, I think the bed rest is good for you. Why, you look at least fifteen years younger than you did yesterday."

His annoying expression reminded Jack to put Daniel on his list, too. Although realistically, he was rather permanently at the top of it.

Carter, in what he convinced himself was an attempt to be respectful of his commanding officer status, tried to curb her smile – though she didn't really succeed. Well, at least she got points for trying. "You do look much better, sir," she agreed.

Somehow, she managed to say it in a way that didn't make him want to pull out the knitting needles and use her for target practice. Not that Jack could say that.

After all, there was a reason he was putting up with a quite literal pain in his ass right now –it was imperative that his team never, ever find out about the knitting. Because as far as Jack could see, under no circumstances would that turn out well for him.

Daniel…well, he'd be Daniel. There would be gloating and an endless mentioning of the knitting and eventually, it would lead to Bad Things. (Probably for Daniel, if Jack was realistic. But then, Jack would probably lose his job over that, and his job was pretty damn cool, so it'd be bad for him, too.)

There would be no teasing from Teal'c (Jack wasn't sure T had caught on to that concept yet). However, there would be interest. And, Jack suspected, the desire to learn. And if Teal'c learned how to knit, then he'd totally be better than Jack. Honestly, Jack already got beat up by Teal'c on a daily basis in the training room. He didn't need another reminder of his shortcomings.

And then there was Carter. Seeing as she really was the consummate professional, Jack knew that Carter would make no comments about the knitting. But he would wonder, the next time he gave her an order, would she take a moment to second-guess it? After all, a man's stern and commanding image was bound to be irreparably damaged after seeing him knitting with bright pink yarn.

…Hey, it was all Penelope had at the time. He could always donate the scarf to charity, and for his next project, he would be sure to choose a strong, manly color. Though really, he wondered if any color could make mittens look strong or manly.

But that was a problem for later. Right now, Jack's top priority was figuring out how to get his team the hell out of here so he could move the damn knitting needle before it broke skin. After all, wouldn't _that_ be a fun injury to explain to the doc?

Unfortunately, they didn't seem inclined to go anywhere. In fact, they were making themselves downright comfortable, lounging against the wall or sitting on the next cot or (in Teal'c's case), looming silently somewhere around the head of the bed.

"So," said Daniel after a bit of a pause. "You are feeling better, then?"

"Yes," Jack replied succinctly.

"Janet said you were getting your appetite back. Enjoying the commissary's fine fare? I've heard they make an excellent cake."

It was official – Daniel's name was now permanently tattooed on the list. "How long is this going to last, exactly?"

"Oh, awhile yet, I think," Daniel replied cheekily.

"No more today, though," said the doc as she hustled in on those scary-looking pumps of hers. "Colonel O'Neill needs his rest." The doc was temporarily Jack's favorite person – at least, until she added, "After all, he's elderly, you know."

If Jack wasn't mistaken, a sound suspiciously close to a snort came from Sam's direction, which meant that Teal'c was now the only person in the world Jack liked.

When Teal'c bowed a little and said, "We will leave you to regain your strength then, O'Neill. Please refrain from any…vigorous activities," Jack knew it was time to call it a day.

"Ack! Enough! Get out, all of you!" he ordered.

As Janet showed them to the door, he heard Daniel mutter, "Wow. He really is a grumpy old man."

Damn straight, Jack thought.

Seeing as the coast was temporarily clear, Jack quickly readjusted the needle he was sitting on until the pain stopped – there was at least one pain in the ass that could be fixed easily enough.

Still, he glared at Janet when she returned to check his vitals. "Got anything else to say?" he asked, clearly warning her not to.

Because she was the doc, she did not heed the warning. "No, nothing else to say. However, I have compiled a series of handouts on STDs that I would like you to read."

"DOC!"

Janet merely raised an eyebrow, gesturing at his currently bedridden self. "You're seriously going to fight me on this one?"

Jack was silent. A menacing, disapproving commanding officer kind of silent.

She, like his team, didn't seem to notice. Was it possible that he was losing his touch?

While he worried over that, Janet finished noting her charts and graphs. "One more thing, Colonel?" she said entirely too sweetly.

"Yes?"

Her eyes darted down to the side of his bed. "Your…yarn…is showing."


	2. Double Pointed Needles

Stitches: Double-Pointed Needles

Author: Christi and Ryuu

Timeline: Sometime not too long after _Singularity_.

--

As she eyed her new present from Jack, Cassie realized one very important thing – it didn't really matter what planet you were on. Adults were weird throughout the universe.

"Wow. That's…fuzzy."

"It's a winter hat!" Jack explained, rocking back on his heels and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "For your head."

"I know what a hat is, Jack."

"Oh. Good. See, this one I made for you has a pom-pom and everything."

He said this like it was a _good _thing. But she couldn't say that, because… "You made these?"

Again, the proud look. "Yup. But don't tell Doc, mmkay?"

"Yeah, whatever." In an effort to stop staring at the over-sized pom-pom donning the top of her new hat, Cassie turned to the second half of the present, which had her even more confused. "What are these for?"

"Did it snow on Hanka?"

"Sometimes. Not a lot."

"Well, these help keep your hands warm."

"They look funny." Honestly, she vaguely remembered some traders coming through the Stargate once who had ears shaped pretty much like these.

"They keep your hands warmer than gloves." Jack grinned. "Especially during snowball fights."

Cassie continued to look skeptical. "Okay...but how are you supposed to pick up a snowball in the first place?"

"Scoop it up and pack it together with your mittens," Jack demonstrated with an imaginary snowball. "You'll love it. We'll throw lots of them at Daniel."

"Jan...Mom says I'm not supposed to throw things at people. Or at least, she did when I threw paint at Bobby Johnson's head."

"Oh." Jack paused for a moment. "Well, yeah. Doc's right about not throwing most things at people, but snowballs are different." He patted Cassie on the shoulder. "How about we ask her if snowballs are okay?"

"Okay." Cassie slipped on one of the mittens and wiggled her fingers around a bit experimentally. When she reached up and managed to grab Jack's nose, she felt satisfied. "I guess you can still grab things."

"Hey!" Jack tried not to grin as he reached out and ruffled her hair. "Watch the nose, shorty."

"I'm not short!" she exclaimed, annoyed.

"Shorter'n me, munchkin." Jack smirked a bit.

"Well, yeah, because you're freakishly tall."

"I seem to recall someone being very ticklish..." Jack sing-songed.

Just the threat made her eyes widen. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

She slid a few steps to the right, just out of his easy reach. "You would. Alien weirdo."

"Hey! I'm not the alien here!"

She merely shrugged. "You are to me."

"Touché." Jack grinned. "Try on the hat."

"Jaaaack. It's _summertime_."

"Just for a minute?" Jack shot her the puppy-eyes.

She glared at him, but pulled the hat over her long brown hair. Watching his reaction, her glare increased. "I look like a dork."

"A nice, toasty dork," Jack agreed, chuckling. "Ice cream?"

"Two scoops." After all, she reflected, it was only fair.

"Wanna see if Carter wants some too?

"Sure. At least Sam won't tell me that I look like a dork."

"You're a cute dork, munchkin," Jack replied fondly.

She rolled her eyes, lacing her arm through his. "Whatever, alien weirdo."

Jack laughed, reaching over and ruffling her hair again. Cassie just sighed and scrambled to keep up with him as he strode across the park.

The things you did for grown-ups.


	3. Weight of the Worsted Kind

Timeline: A few weeks after _Solitudes_.

Author's Note: I've had it pointed out to me that most people might assume that Jack's divorce is finalized by this point in the series. In reality, during _Cold Lazarus_ they never say for certain that they're divorced – Daniel calls them separated. And during _Solitudes_, while Jack does refer to Sara as his ex-wife, I sort of think that people do that before it's really official. Honestly, just go with it.

--

Jack knew that he should be stronger than this. That honestly, the idea of simply walking up to someone's front door shouldn't make him queasy. But then, there was a very simple reason he had let Sara have the house without any protestation at all – he still couldn't stand the sight of it.

He knew it was irrational. But all the same, every time he climbed the steps on that front porch, part of him stopped, waiting for the soul-killing crack of his gun.

But he could do this for Sara. She deserved at least that much.

So he got out of his truck and climbed the dreaded stairs, holding his breath the entire time. It wasn't until he had rung the doorbell and was safely ensconced on the welcome mat that he let it out in a slow, even stream.

Until Sara swung open the door and his breath caught. God, she was still so damn beautiful. "I, um, know I'm late," he offered.

She leaned against the doorframe, imposing and cool. "Only a few weeks. Honestly, you could have just put them in the mail."

"I…no. No, I wanted to do it in person. Besides, I've been erm, away." Which here meant 'stuck in a damn Infirmary bed in the middle of a God-forsaken glacier where there were definitely no post offices'.

"Really? Where?"

Jack grimaced, but before he could even get out the standard line, she laughed. "Let me guess: it's classified?"

His smile was weak, but there. "You know me well."

"Not so much anymore. It's just that some things never change." Her eyes trailed down, locked on the cane he still needed for a week or so while his leg adjusted, and she said while eyeing it, "So I suppose there's no point in asking me what happened?"

He shrugged. "It's just temporary."

"Ah."

Yeah, it was becoming pretty clear that she was still pissed at him. This whole thing might have gone better a few months ago, but after that whole Crystal Entity disaster and now being late getting these back to her…well, it was a credit to her nature that she hadn't thrown things at him through the window.

Awkwardly, he shoved the manila envelope towards her. "Um, so, I brought you these, all signed and everything." He shifted awkwardly on his feet, twirling the yarn in his hand before realizing what it was and pulling it from around his neck. "Oh, and I made you this scarf. I know it'll be a few months before you can really use it, but well, let's just say I've been thinking about being warm a lot lately."

Sara blinked. "You made this?"

"Err, yeah. But that's not really important."

She was silent for awhile, no doubt trying to make sense of his erratic behavior. Finally, she seemed to just accept it in that way she was so good at. "Thank you."

"Yeah."

They stood in silence for a little while, and finally Sara waved the manila envelope at him. "So, tomorrow I'll get these filed and by the end of the week, you should once again be a single man."

He went to stuff his hands in his pockets, but remembered that he still needed one for the cane he was still using and ended up just flailing a bit strangely. "Yeah."

"Looking forward to it?" she asked weakly.

How could she even…? "No," he said bluntly. "But it's probably for the best."

Her smile was sad. "Probably," she echoed. "You seem…better. Than you were."

Honestly, he didn't think that was too hard – Iraq had been a cakewalk compared to how he had been. "I think I am. Or getting there, anyway. It's a process thing."

She nodded. "It is."

Jack hesitated before saying anything else. "I'm sorry, you know. That I couldn't….before. And just for…well, everything."

"Oh, Jack," Sara sighed, leaning even more heavily against the doorframe. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

On that subject, it seemed that they were doomed to disagree. But Jack didn't bother saying that – the last thing he wanted right now was to start an argument.

He just hated standing there, having no idea what to say to this woman. This wonderful woman, who he had loved for nearly a decade of his life, had somehow become stranger to him than fighting space aliens. Jack suspected there was a really deep metaphor in there somewhere for life, the universe, and everything, but it escaped him at the moment.

"If you ever need anything…" he started.

She just sent another bittersweet smile his way. "I know. But I'll be fine. You?"

Somehow, he found himself smiling, too. "Yeah. I've got a whole team watching my six."

"Are they good at it?"

He thought about Teal'c's loyalty and Daniel's determination and Sam's brilliance. "Ridiculously. And they're all way smarter than me, so…."

She laughed. "Well, thank God for _that_."

"No kidding," he retorted with a sheepish smile. After one more minute of now slightly less awkward silence, he broke. "Hey, c'mere."

She was in his arms practically before he had finished his sentence, and God, holding her and knowing it was going to be the last time was a very specific kind of pain. Jack desperately wanted to say something profound, something worthy of her, but he had never really been good at the whole emotional exchange thing. So he finally settled on brushing a kiss in her hair and whispering, "Be happy, okay?"

When she pulled away she was crying, but somehow it didn't hurt so much to see it. "You too, Jack."

He smiled a crooked smile as he turned to hobble back down to his truck. "I'll work on it."


	4. Stitch Marker

Timeline: After _The Serpent's Lair_.

Author's Note: I sort of think that _Within the Serpent's Grasp _and _The Serpent's Lair_ are important episodes, less for plot development and more for character stuff. So…fic.

--

Somehow, even the three hour long debrief didn't quite manage to kill the high of literally saving the world. Which explained why, even after the entirely too thorough medical exam and the intense grilling process, SG-1 had found themselves standing at the elevator bay, still too wound up to return to their own, decidedly humdrum home lives.

"So…" Jack ended up saying awkwardly. "Anyone up for a drink?"

He was immediately glad he made the suggestion: the way Sam's eyes lit up led him to believe that he wasn't the only one dreading the gradual slip back to business as usual. "There's a place not far from base," she offered, still a bit hesitant despite her own eagerness.

Jack had heard of it too. "Right. O'something."

"O'Malley's," Daniel supplied. "They're supposed to have a great steak."

"Steak seems like a most appealing meal choice," was Teal'c's contribution to the conversation. So, decision made, they headed off to enjoy some steak, some beer, and each other.

It was clear when they walked in that O'Malley's had been the perfect choice. The sports bar atmosphere was jovial and fitting to their high spirits, the food smelled fantastic, the music was classic rock and roll, and several pool tables featured prominently in the décor.

Eyeing a free table as they took off their coats and got situated in a nice, out-of-the-way booth, Jack finally said, "How about it, Sam? You play?"

She shrugged. "Not as often as I'd like."

Well, there was an invitation if he had ever heard one. "Feel like a game?"

Because she was more polite than he ever remembered to be, she glanced at Daniel and Teal'c. "Would you guys mind?"

Daniel waved her away. "Go for it. I've never understood the appeal, myself."

Somehow, Jack wasn't surprised. After all, pool required skills like basic hand-to-eye coordination – skills that Daniel tended to lack. "T?" Jack asked, just be sure.

Teal'c simply nodded – why Jack expected anything else by now, he never knew. Still, it was enough of an acknowledgement that he felt okay turning back to the now grinning Captain. "After you then, Carter," he said, bowing slightly.

They fell into an easy routine of preparation, Carter examining cues while Jack racked the balls. By the time the table was ready, so was Sam, handing him a perfectly chalked cue. "Thanks," he acknowledged. "Wanna break?"

"You sure, sir?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Why not? Relax, Carter. Go with the flow."

With a smile, she bent over the table, lining up her shot. "I wasn't trying to be difficult – I was just giving you a chance to change your mind."

When her break easily landed two solid balls, Jack realized that he may have 'relaxed' himself right into a pool table humiliation. Appearing on his left, Daniel offered him a Guinness. "Need this?"

As Carter sank a ridiculously difficult shot into the side pocket, Jack grabbed the mug. "Hell yeah."

Teal'c, now flanking his right side, watched with interest. "Captain Carter, you seem to be most adept at this game."

Not even bothering to pause, she glanced up at them, gloating more than a little – not that she wasn't perfectly entitled. "Thank you, Teal'c. I could teach you, if you like."

"Perhaps," Teal'c allowed.

Great. So there were soon to be TWO members of his team who could kick his ass at pool. "I'm going to need more beer," he muttered.

The remark caused a short shift in Sam's focus from the green felt. "Oh, come on, sir. Don't be a sore loser. Just _relax_. Go with the flow."

Hearing his own words being used to needle him, Jack actually found himself laughing. "You always so cheeky outside of the mountain, Captain?"

He regretted saying it almost instantly, because she almost seemed chastened. "Sorry, sir. It's just…we just saved the world. I'm a bit…well, I'll tone it down."

"Hey, don't bother on my account. I certainly wasn't complaining," he assured her. In fact, it was sort of nice to see a less…professional Carter. She was young and eager and so very military sometimes that it clashed with his naturally rebellious streak.

That being said, however, she was still proving to be the best second-in-command he had ever had. She knew when to speak up and when to do as she was told, she managed to get her point across as clearly as possible, and when she wasn't spouting incomprehensible scientific jargon, she could be a lot of fun.

Not to mention the other thing. The thing where, as military as she was, she had still followed him into what quite clearly should have been their untimely and likely painful deaths. Daniel and Teal'c were different, somehow – the fall of the Goa'uld was, in many ways, their only goal. But Sam…she had other, grander plans, and defying orders to go through that gate had placed every single one of them in jeopardy. Even if they had been optimists when considering how things could have turned out before defying direct orders and going through that gate, they would have expected a court martial at the very least upon their return.

She had known that, and even with as much as the Air Force obviously meant to her, she had followed him into what they had assumed was going to be complete and total ruin.

Somehow, that made the fact that she was currently kicking his ass infinitely more bearable.

As she sunk the eight ball, he took a long drag from his mug. "Carter, I think that makes it official – you're a pool shark."

"No, sir. The term shark implies intent. I can't help it if most men are chauvinist idiots who assume that blondes come to bars to look pretty. Present company excluded, of course."

"Of course," he replied, smiling at her in spite of himself. "Hey, Carter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Have I ever told you that I am really, _really_ glad you're on our side?"

Her grin was bright and immediate. "As you should be, sir."

And she was funny on top of everything else. It figured. Shaking his head, he handed his cue to Teal'c. "Here, T. Have Carter show you the basics while I go buy us another round."

"Very well, O'Neill."

As he made his way through the crowd, he could hear Sam start off with, "Okay, Teal'c, it's really just basic math…."

"Geometry," Daniel chimed in.

"I am unfamiliar with 'geometry', Daniel Jackson."

Walking a little quicker, Jack pushed his way through the crowd. After all, he had people to get back to. People who, if he wasn't back soon, would have pool completely stripped of all its inherent coolness in favor of angles and physics.

What would they do without him?


	5. Seed Stitch

Author: Ryuu 

Spoilers: post _In The Line of Duty_

Author's Note: This one is set completely at the end of ITLOD. Sam's snapping out of the depression, but Janet, Napoleonic power-monger that she is, would rather Sam were completely back to normal before she gets back on duty. 

--

Sam woke up feeling disoriented, gasping, and fighting the intense urge to vomit. She barely managed to quell the sudden surge of panic, telling herself that this was the infirmary, she was alone in her head, and she was safe now. She concentrated on taking deep breaths and trying to slow her pulse.

"It's okay, Carter," a voice murmured off to her side. "I've got your six."

She startled, jerking her head around to find her commanding officer ensconced in one of the really uncomfortable infirmary chairs. He smiled at her, setting his knitting aside, and leaned in to place a gentle hand on the curve of her shoulder.

"Sir?" she whispered, still feeling half-asleep. 

"Hey, Carter." The hand on her shoulder squeezed, lightly and briefly. "How do you feel?"

"Okay," she said. "Tired."

Amazingly, his smile became even warmer and he rubbed a small circle against her shoulder with his fingertips. "Get some sleep?" he suggested.

She shook her head. "Bad dreams."

"I'll keep them away." He let her shoulder go and leaned back in his chair, picking up the knitting again. "Sleep, Carter."

She shot him a puzzled frown. "Since when do you knit?"

He chuckled. "I don't. You're already dreaming, Carter."

"Sir." Her frown deepened as she watched him neatly and skillfully loop the yarn together. "Why do you have so many needles, anyway?"

He raised an eyebrow, but held up his needles anyway, letting her get a closer look at his half-finished sock. "Double-pointed needles. It's the only way to knit a small tube."

She blinked. "Always wondered how people did that," she admitted. 

"And now you know," Jack replied, a hint of what Sam might be tempted to think of as affection in his voice. 

She nodded, leaning back and looking extremely sleepy. "Kinda wanted to learn how."

Jack reached over to pat her shoulder again. "Get some sleep and I might just show you how tomorrow."

"I'd like that." She gave him a drowsy smile, turned onto her side facing him, and closed her eyes. She thought she felt a fingertip brush against the side of her face and let out a contented sigh as she drifted off, feeling completely safe.

--

She awoke the next morning to Janet requesting a patient's file from one of her nurses and immediately wondered if there was any possible way to bypass the "no caffeine" edict Janet had firmly in place. She suddenly grinned, realizing she might be spending a bit too much time around Daniel.

"Good morning."

Sam looked up to find Janet smiling at her and managed a tired smile in return. "Hey."

"How did you sleep?" Janet walked over and picked up Sam's chart, making a careful notation.

She nodded. "Good. I feel a lot better."

Janet nodded back, her expression satisfied. "Good. I think I may just be able to let you out of here tomorrow."

"Really?"

"Yup." Janet put the chart down, grinning. "Hungry? Let's see about rounding you up some breakfast."

As Janet walked away, calling to an aide, Sam leaned back and went over the events of the previous night in her mind. She mentally shook her head and chuckled at the weird dream she'd had about the Colonel, figuring that she probably was just getting some drug or another out of her system.

She glanced around the infirmary, pausing as she caught sight of a tiny, coiled piece of bright blue string under a chair next her bed. If she didn't know better, she'd swear it looked just like-

"Here we go!" came the overly perky voice of an aide as she set a tray across Sam's lap. "Just let me know when you're ready for me to take that away, Captain."

Sam nodded. "Er…thanks." She reached for the glass of orange juice, leaving the puzzling question of dreams about a disturbingly domestic Colonel O'Neill for a later time.


	6. Circular

Author: Christi 

Timeline: During _Need_. 

Author's Note: Erm, if you haven't noticed by now, we are really just using Stitches as a feasible way to fill or fix all those annoying little plot holes that bother us in the series. This would be another one of those.

--

Talking Daniel down, as it turned out, was the easy part. It quickly became clear that while the seriously life-threatening part of Daniel's alien-induced withdrawal had passed, he still had the oh-so-cheery effects of generic, everyday Earth withdrawal to weather. 

Thanks to the whole incident with the Doc and the gun, Hammond wasn't real keen on letting Danny boy work through it all by himself. Which was how Jack had ended up locked in Daniel's quarters, stationed in front of the door, waiting out the long, rather gross process with him. But it was all right. He had a zat in case Daniel went around the bend again and his knitting to keep him busy. 

For a few hours, all Daniel did was sleep. It was a good thing – in Jack's experience, there were very few things that couldn't be helped by a little sleep. It was waking up that was the problem. And eventually, Daniel did wake – jolting out of bed and straight to the toilet in a stunning and disgusting display of heaving. 

Just the sound was enough to make Jack wince. 

"You okay?" he asked as soon as there was a lull in the gagging. 

Daniel managed to groan, which really, Jack took as a good sign. "Yeah, that's about what I thought."

"I think I'm going to die," Daniel mumbled as he scrambled a little closer to the door between the living quarters and the bathroom, leaning against the frame. 

"Nah, the doc says you're in the clear. You just sort of _wish_ you could die now."

"Because that's so much better."

Somehow, after the scare he had given all of them a few hours ago, Jack couldn't find a witty retort to that. "Daniel. It _is_."

Daniel's reply was to throw up again. When he returned to his slouching position on the doorframe, he squinted at Jack in disbelief. "Are you knitting?"

Jack just looked at him strangely. "Don't be ridiculous, Daniel. You're in withdrawal. You've got a raging fever. Must be hallucinating." He then proceeded to knit a few more rows. 

"I do? I feel freezing."

"What, you've never gotten the chills either?" With a sigh, Jack took pity on him, put the knitting aside, and stood, carefully wrapping a blanket around his friend's shaking shoulders. "That should help."

Daniel pulled it close, wrapping himself in as close to fetal position as the cramps in his stomach would allow. "Thanks. I'm sorry I pulled a gun on you earlier."

"Don't worry about it," Jack replied. "What're a few death threats between friends?"

It made Daniel start to laugh – until he grimaced. "Oh, God. No jokes, please."

"Right. Sorry."

For awhile, the only sound in the room was the subtle _click click_ of Jack's knitting needles as he worked his way around the circular needle he was currently using to make a new hat – cleverly black and inconspicuous in pattern so that it could replace his current hat without anyone being the wiser. He knew Daniel was starting to feel like his old self again (well, plus a fever, violent tremors, and intestinal distress) when it was Daniel who finally broke the silence. And of course, he chose the subject Jack least wanted to talk about to seize on. 

"Before…when you…well, you said you knew what this was. That you knew what it's like. How…?"

On one hand, that was something Jack did not talk about. Ever. No exceptions. So, he tried to evade the question.

"It was a long time ago, Daniel. A lifetime. Several, in fact."

"I don't care," was Daniel's slightly petulant reply. 

On the other, he remembered all too well what it was like just to want to think about something – _anything_ – besides the chaos going on inside your own body. And chances were that Daniel wouldn't even remember this anyway. So, pointedly _not_ looking up from his knitting, Jack tried to explain. 

"I…well, in some ways it's not so different from what got you here. I fell behind on a mission. Got captured. The interrogator there thought that shooting his hostages up on heroin and then using their newfound addiction against them was a great scheme." And really, it had been. "Anyway, when I finally broke out, I was only about half-alive, but it was the withdrawal that really killed."

He didn't look up because he was sure that Daniel would try to say something, when really, there was nothing to say. When Jack finally heard the sound of retching instead, he felt a distinct sense of relief instead of the usual revulsion. Which, of course, immediately made him feel guilty.

When the heaving stopped again, Jack walked slowly over to the open door, peering in sympathetically. "Done for now?"

He would have sworn that Daniel whimpered. "Zat me. Please?"

"Oh, you _really_ don't want to add the aftermath of a zat blast to this, trust me," Jack contradicted. "But come on, let's get you back into bed. You can puke into a bucket just as easily there and be more comfortable doing it."

Step by slow step, they managed to cross the room and get Daniel onto the bed, huddled under covers and yet still sweating profusely. But the softer surface did seem to comfort him some, and he relaxed a bit into the mattress. "Thanks," he muttered.

"No problem. Try and get some sleep – it'll help."

The advice seemed unnecessary, however, seeing as Daniel's eyes were already drooping. "I can't believe you're knitting," he muttered as he dozed off. 

"Just s_leep_, Daniel," Jack commanded as he settled back into his chair.


	7. Stocking Yet?

Author: Christi 

Timeline: After _Message in a Bottle._

Author's Note: You'll have to excuse the pun in the title. I like puns. Even bad ones. Especially bad ones, if I'm honest. Also, you'll have to excuse Jack in this, as he's a bit loopy. I justify it by claiming that hey, after being hung on a wall for that long, you'd be stoned out of your mind on meds. So. This is Jack's brain on drugs. 

--

Another day, another extended visit to the infirmary. Really, Jack needed to stop being surprised when his week ended with him attached to monitors and IVs. In fact, it might just save time if all of SG-1 had catheters permanently installed into their wrists, ready and waiting for the inevitable saline drip to be hooked up. And hey, if the saline drip came with a side order of nice happy pain meds, who was Jack to complain?

But then, if you stood at the right angle, he was pretty sure you could currently see right through his shoulder. So it wasn't exactly a huge surprise that he was hankering after some pretty serious drugs. And Doc, who was currently one of Jack's favorite people, seemed more than happy to oblige. 

So, Jack was in bed. But he was happily drugged in bed, so things could have been much, much worse. And it was in this bed, while on the happy drugs, that he came up with the Brilliant Sock Plan. 

Yes, the Brilliant Sock Plan was _so_ brilliant that even in thought, it deserved to be capitalized. 

It began with Carter. Because see, he had been pinned up against that wall for a really long time. _Really_ long. And while there were definitely some hazy parts (he could have sworn Teal'c was cracking jokes, but that just didn't happen….right?), he knew that the reason he had eventually gotten down was Carter. In Jack's book, she deserved a medal. Or five. Short of that, _some_ kind of thanks-for-saving-me-from-being-an-alien-shish-kabob gesture seemed called for. 

Why didn't Miss Manners ever write about the appropriate gift for _that _occasion?

But he digressed. The point was, he needed a gift for Carter. Problematically, Jack had never been great at the gift thing. 

Then Dr. Penelope March, physical therapist, showed up the morning of his third day in the infirmary, knitting bag close at hand, and Jack was blindsided with the perfection that was the Brilliant Sock Plan. 

"Penny," he said slowly, "I think I just had an exceptionally good idea."

She looked unimpressed, pulling up a chair. "Did it hurt?"

"On these drugs?" he scoffed. "Not a chance. Now, gimme some threes."

Maybe it was the morphine, but he could've sworn she was trying to hide a smile. "Feeling ambitious, are we?"

"More like goal-oriented. You're going to teach me how to make socks."

To her credit, Penny did not laugh, even though Jack suspected that she really, _really_ wanted to. "I think I'll stick with ambitious. Are you certain that you're quite ready for that?"

It was difficult, but Jack managed not to be too offended. "Hey, I've been practicing. A lot."

To be completely honest, he was beginning to think that knitting should be thoroughly studied and subsequently classified as an addictive drug. But that was neither here nor there. "Come _on_," he wheedled petulantly. "Gimme."

"Narcotics do nothing good for your disposition," she seemed compelled to inform him while digging through a disturbingly large carpet bag. "Ah-ha, here we are. Size threes. Anything else?"

Little old ladies should _not_ be this snarky, Jack decided with a glare. "Um, yarn?"

"Color?"

Inspiration struck him and he grinned. "Blue. The brightest blue you've got."

Once more she went diving into the seemingly bottomless carpet bag, and when she emerged, she held in her hands two skeins of a disturbingly familiar electric shade of aqua. "Will this do?"

"Perfect!" he proclaimed, taking the skeins with relish. "You know Penny, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Don't count on it," she replied dryly. "And my name is Penelope. Or, even better, Dr. March."

"Awe, come on Penny. Let your hair down a little." After finishing that statement, he dubiously eyed the tight bun she had once again tortured her hair into. "Does it move?"

Judging from the quick whack he received from Penelope's own set of needles, their relationship was not yet secure enough for hair jokes. That was okay, though. Jack had little doubt that there would be plenty of missions that resulted in the need for physical therapy sessions in the future. They had time. 

Humming happily, Jack cast on a tidy row of stitches and ignored the dull pain emanating from his shoulder as he worked them carefully in the round. This was a good idea, Jack was pretty certain. And he had Penny to thank, uptight bun and all. "Hey, Penny?"

She stubbornly refused to acknowledge him, and he sighed. "Dr. March?"

A wide smile greeted him this time. "Yes, Colonel O'Neill?"

"I just wanted to tell you that this is the best physical therapy I've ever had. And trust me, I've had to have a lot."

This seemed to really touch her, and the smile on her face softened a bit. "Thank you, Colonel."

"You're welcome." They continued knitting in silence for a few more moments before Jack couldn't resist adding one thing. "I've been wondering something, though."

"Yes?"

"…What do you do if someone needs physical therapy for their legs?"

Her smile was almost frightening in its serenity. "Why don't you do your best not to find out?"

Somehow, Jack found himself agreeing and, suitably chastised, returned to his knitting.

Surprisingly, it was Dr. March who broke the silence awhile later, with a neutrally intoned observation. "Interesting color choice," she said, not even seeming to glance up from her own project. 

It was, in fact, the exact same shade of electric blue that had so recently been creeping up the walls of the gateroom, not to mention all through Jack, lighting him up like a radioactive Christmas tree. Looking at it was both fascinating and terrifying, but Jack didn't feel up to trying to explain that. Instead, he just shrugged. "Hey, this is supposed to be therapy, isn't it?"

"_Physical_ therapy." Her tone implied that Jack was probably in dire need of various other forms, as well.

Not that Jack was really in much of a position to argue. "I'm multi-tasking?"

"Hmmm," was Penny's response. Was it possible that in her last life, Penny had been Mary Poppins? Because really, with the hair and the tone of voice and the bottomless bag, there was a striking resemblance. Somehow, Jack sensed that she might not appreciate the comparison, though. 

Still, the next half hour or so was happily spent knitting and silently listing the ways in which Penny was Mary Poppins. Jack bet that Mary Poppins had been able to knit. It was a useful thing, after all, and Mary Poppins was practically perfect in every way, or so the tape measure said. 

Huh. Now that he thought about it, he wondered how she could possibly knit with a tape measure like that. Did it say snarky things about knitting projects like it did about people? Because that could be fun. 

"Colonel O'Neill, you're supposed to be turning the heel about there."

He stopped and looked down at his knitting. "Oh. I don't know how to do that."

"Well, watch me then."

Her needles moved so fast that at first, he had trouble making out what he was supposed to do. Eventually, though, he caught on. "Hey, Penny?"

Silence. He sighed. "Dr. March?"

"Yes, Colonel O'Neill?"

"Can you sing?"

In what he was quickly learning was Penelope March fashion, she seemed unfazed by his random question. "That, Colonel O'Neill, is for me to know."

"And me to find out?" he added hopefully. At her scathing look, however, he wilted. "Or not."

"Not," she confirmed. "Now, pay attention."

Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe he was just getting tired, but he actually followed her instructions. Which was why, a mere three days later, he found himself sneaking into SG-1's locker room, one pair of bright blue socks safely stuffed into his pocket. 

He knew the sneaking was unnecessary – Carter was currently in the infirmary, getting her monthly check-up with Doc and no one else would think it was weird for him to be in here. Well, okay, the guys might if they stopped to think about it for a minute, but T wouldn't say anything and Daniel probably wouldn't notice either way, so it didn't matter. Essentially, his bases were covered. Still, Jack couldn't help but feel like his current mission called for a little covert action. 

After all, it wasn't everyday that he broke into his second-in-command's locker. 

Luckily, the actual breaking in didn't cause him too many problems – simple combination locks could not keep the great Jack O'Neill from completing his mission. No, sir. 

With a satisfied smirk he swung open the metal door and, trying to curb the impulse to poke around a little, quickly fished the socks out of his pocket and placed them carefully on top of the few things stacked at the bottom of the locker. There. She couldn't possibly miss that. And, because of the perfection that was the Brilliant Sock Plan, she also couldn't possibly tie those socks back to him. 

He shut the locker feeling particularly cheerful, whistling his way out the door and down the hall. Those socks were definitely an appropriate thanks-for-saving-me-from-being-an-alien-shish-kabob gift, and yet, he had somehow managed to avoid the whole awkward mess of actually having to say the words. 

It was quite possibly the best use for knitting that Jack had discovered yet. 


	8. Unraveling

Author: Christi and Ryuu 

Timeline: After _Secrets._

Author's Note: So really, in the show, Cassie is sort of a non-character. She shows up a few times, but surprisingly has little by way of a specific back story or personality. So, because I love even just the concept of Cassie, I'm giving her pieces of one. Because I can. 

--

Over the last year, Cassie had learned that there were a lot of advantages to having a whole host of parental-type figures in your life. For example, on holidays, it could not be denied that she was spoiled with gifts and attention. There was always someone to borrow a few bucks from, and always someone to pick you up from school or take you to the mall. She always had easily available homework help for math, science, history, and (should she require it) gym. 

But Cassie had also discovered that adults required a lot of maintenance. Juggling one adoptive mother, two more pseudo-parents, and a host of friendly neighborhood uncles could be exhausting. Take today for example. This morning, Daniel had called with a pop quiz on the line of Egyptian Pharaohs. After school, Teal'c 'wished to inquire how her track exercises' had gone. During dinner, Jack had called to suggest that maybe she would like to go spend a night with Sam, who seemed a little down. 

This, of course, had led Cassie here, waiting on Sam's porch with a bag in tow. When the door swung open, she smiled. "Someone ordered a slumber party?"

Behind the screen door, Sam's responding smile seemed strained. "Hey, this was your idea. A great one, but I can't take the credit."

Neither could Cassie really, but it didn't matter. "I just realized that I hadn't seen you since you got back from Washington, that's all. Besides, mom had to work the night shift tonight and I don't really like the babysitter much."

Sam managed a grin. "Ulterior motives, huh?" She opened the door to let Cassie in.

"Guilty," Cassie admitted as she walked in.

"Does this mean you're paying for the pizza?"

"With what, my three dollar allowance? I might not have this planet's money completely figured out yet, but even I know that what I've got won't cover pizza _and_ ice cream."

"Ice cream? Who said anything about ice cream?"

Cassie smiled innocently. "I did. Just now."

Sam let out a mock-martyred sigh. "The sacrifices I make..."

"Oh, like you care so long as there's chocolate involved."

Sam grinned at her. "Smartass."

"So people keep telling me," Cassie acknowledged. "But then, look at my role models. Now, feed me."

Sam chuckled and put an arm around her shoulders. "Fine, fine. I give."

Soon enough, there was pizza _and_ ice cream _and_ a dauntingly high pile of candy to be enjoyed at their leisure. Curled up on the sofa with a red vine in one hand and a cold soda in the other, Cassie turned her attention to the task at hand. Thinking it best not to beat around the bush, as it would cut into prime movie-watching time, she asked bluntly, "So, how was Washington?"

"It was fine," Sam replied quickly. "Oh, you have Dirty Dancing?"

Cassie blinked. "Err...Mom gave it to me. And wow, are _you_ subtle."

Sam made a face. "Cute."

Cassie grinned. "I know I am. So, give. What's up with you?"

"I'm not sure I want to talk about it," Sam sighed. 

"Fair enough," Cassie replied, biting into her licorice. "At least Jack can't say I didn't try."

"Colonel O'Neill put you up to this?"

"More or less. He just called and hinted in that way he has where it doesn't really sound like a hint at all. But it's not like I minded, or anything. I mean, either way, I get to hang out with you and there's junk food."

Sam sighed again. "You know, most of the time, you seem much too mature for your age."

"Mmm. Side effect of losing an entire planet, I think," Cassie said thoughtfully. She didn't remember much about Hanka -- Mom said that she'd probably blocked a lot out -- but just remembering that there had_ been_ a Hanka was sobering enough most of the time.

Sam studied her for a long moment before reaching out and putting her arm around the girl's shoulders. "I saw my Dad in Washington."

Snuggling into Sam's side, Cassie had to glance up at her face to see that this wasn't a happy thing. Now granted, Cassie didn't know much about fathers. Her own father had been killed before she could remember during one of Nirrti's nastier visits. Still, she had always generally assumed that they were good things and that visits with them were to be looked forward to the way she looked forward to afternoons with Jack. "And that wasn't good?"

She bit at her lower lip. "No."

Cassie frowned. "I'm sorry." Because that seemed to be all Sam wanted to say about the subject, Cassie idly searched for a change in subject. From her new vantage point smushed against Sam's side, she had a clear view of little but Sam's feet, and the sight made her grin unexpectedly. "Hey, you're wearing the socks!"

"Yeah, they're nice and warm-" Sam began, before stopping mid-sentence. "Wait. You know about the socks?"

"Sure! When I visited Jack, the time he had a hole in his shoulder? He was all drugged up and rambled for a long time about his Brilliant Sock Plan and how you, Saver of his Butt, deserved great things. And somehow, that seemed to mean...socks." Cassie eyed them, shrugging. "Honestly, they turned out really well considering how loopy he was when he made them."

"He made them?"

"Yeah. You know, with the needles and yarn and stuff."

Sam blinked. "The Colonel knits?"

"Sure. He makes me stuff all the time -- this great sweater and my mittens and well, a sort of unfortunate hat, but since he made it..." Cassie let her thought hang unfinished, because really, that was all the explanation her wearing the hat needed.

Seeing how surprised Sam was to hear about this, though, Cassie began to feel nervous. "Uh. Somehow, I'm thinking that maybe you weren't supposed to know about the Brilliant Sock Plan."

"The Colonel knits," Sam repeated slowly.

Her continued shock was only cementing the bad feeling in the pit of Cassie's stomach. "Is that...unusual?"

"I thought it was all just a dream," Sam mumbled, staring at the socks.

Now Cassie was lost. Still, it seemed like a good time to cover her bases. "Um...can we just not tell him that you know? I think that would be good."

"He made these socks? For me?"

Now that was just a silly question considering the previous conversation, and Cassie smiled in spite of herself. "Duh."

Sam looked confused. "Why?"

"I _told _you already. Something about you deserving great things. And here, 'great things' seems to mean...socks," Cassie looked at them again and blinked a few times before looking away. "They really are a bright blue, aren't they?"

"Yeah. The same color as-" Sam abruptly shut up, staring at the socks with a slightly uncomfortable expression on her face.

Cassie got it – being classified herself made it easy to recognize other unspeakable subjects. "It's okay. Just...seriously, don't tell him you know, okay? I don't think you're supposed to and I really don't want him to get mad at me."

Sam snorted. "As much fun as it'd be to watch the Colonel get evasive about knitting, I won't."

Relief flowed through Cassie and she snuggled closer. "Thanks." She knew, rationally, that Jack wouldn't really be mad. But seeing as Jack was the closest thing Cassie could remember to ever having a father, she'd honestly rather not risk it.

Sam, now every inch the protective adult who sensed Cassie's discomfort, sat in silence for a few minutes, stroking Cassie's hair. "So...movie?"

Feeling like she had suitably distracted Sam from whatever was bugging her (even if it _had_ meant letting her in on Jack's secret knitting activities), Cassie smiled. "Yes, please."


	9. Gauge

Title: Stitches: Casting On

Author: Christi and Ryuu

Timeline: After _Learning Curve._

Author's Note: Um, so, there are characters herein that have the same names as people you might know. They are not in any way, shape, or form supposed to _be_ those people. We just used their names because some people have been particularly helpful with this whole project, and we thought they deserved _something_. So they get a few slightly neurotic OC's named after them.

--

The Yarn Shop was exactly what it sounded like, nothing more or less than a tiny, privately owned store located comfortably in the back corner of a strip mall in Colorado Springs. When Sue Quinn had opened it nearly twenty years ago, she never would have guessed that it would lead to all this – this being a successful business, more yarn than all the storage bins she could find would hold, and a set of regulars who never really seemed to leave.

Not that she was complaining, of course.

"So, it turns out that he seems to think all girls are into Avril which meant that dating him was a total lost cause," Frances continued, snipping off her old yarn and preparing to add in a new skein. "Which means I'm single again for the foreseeable future."

"Being with someone is overrated," Kate muttered, trying to figure out how she'd somehow added a stitch to her hat.

"You just think that because you've been divorced two times," Frances pointed out.

"Shut up."

"Nope."

"Ladies! We promote peaceful knitting here," Sue interjected, trying not to smile.

From his place perched on the windowsill, Sue's one and only employee Andrew laughed. "Sue darling, sometimes it could not be more glaringly obvious that you learned how to knit in the sixties."

"Nothing wrong with a little serenity," Sue replied, as unruffled as before.

"It's too bad, though," Frances said, picking up the earlier conversation and looking wistful. "I mean, in leather pants, he's got a really great-"

"Okay! Who wants a brownie?" Sue interrupted.

"Ooo, I was wondering when our sugar fix of the day was going to be brought out," Andrew squealed.

"Well, _someone_ has to feed you. Otherwise you'd all waste away, just sitting here in my shop and knitting yourselves straight into starvation."

"There are worse ways to go," Frances pointed out.

"You're worse than my grandmother, Sue," Kate pointed out, eyeing the chocolate.

"Yes, well, I provide free knitting help and you're still a beginner, so I wouldn't complain if I were you," Sue replied calmly. "Besides, you could use a few pounds on you." Kate's typically high-strung nature tended to worry the pounds right off.

"Hey, hasn't that kid been here before?" Frances asked, tilting her head towards the window.

At even the mention of a new arrival, every head turned to gaze out the window. Sue squinted at the two figures approaching from the parking lot. "I think she was in sometime last week."

Andrew nodded. "She was. And she's a well-behaved little thing, too – didn't mess up the stock at all. Just eyed it for about fifteen minutes and then left."

"Is that her father?" Kate asked. "He's cute."

"I'm not sure cute is the right word," Andrew corrected, still staring. "More like...ruggedly fuc--"

"Andrew, stop staring and eat a brownie," Sue interjected.

"Yes, Mom."

"Oh, stop it," she warned. "All of you, away from the window now. We don't want to scare the new customers before they even walk in the door."

"Too late," Frances quipped, sitting back in her seat with an audible plop. "Here they come."

"What are we doing again?" they could hear the stranger asking as he pulled open the door and held it for the young girl at his heels.

"We're trying something new. Isn't that what you taught that girl Merrin to do?"

"Those were slightly different circumstances," he pointed out dryly. After receiving a glare from her, however, he shrugged. "Fine, fine. Lead the way, professor." He took her hand and finally glanced around the store, visibly impressed. "I have to admit, this place is pretty great. Where did you find it?"

"An amazing thing called the Internet. Seeing as you live most of your life underground, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it."

"Very funny, Cass."

In silence, they all watched as the little girl calmly led the stranger over to the handspun section and pulled out a skein of brilliant green. "I want a sweater made out of _this_ yarn."

"This particular yarn? Why?"

"It's 100 percent silk."

This new bit of information seemed to intrigue the man, which caused Andrew to snicker a little under his breath. "Sucker," he muttered.

Meanwhile, the stranger continued to eye the skein. "Really?" In a flash, he grabbed it, and soon his eyes had glazed over in a look Sue knew all too well – one of yarn-induced bliss. "Oh. _Oh_. That's_ nice_."

From where she sat, Sue could see Frances shaking her dyed black locks. "Newbie."

The man finally looked at the price tag and blanched slightly. "Are you sure a nice mohair wouldn't be just as good?"

"I don't want a fuzzy sweater, Jack."

"Merino, then?"

"Jaaaaaaaack..."

The man now identified as Jack rolled his eyes. "You're becoming a menace, you know that?"

"Hey, at least I'm learning from the best."

Jack chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair. "Got that right." With one more grumble, he began filling his basket with the skeins, and Sue couldn't helped but be relieved that he at least had the sense to check the dye lots. "This will be the most expensive sweater ever made."

The girl patted his arm. "Don't put a price on love, Jack."

At this point, Sue really did feel obligated to point out something. "I hate to interrupt, but I just wanted to make sure you realized that the yarn you've selected is dry clean only."

Although he didn't seem perturbed by the interruption, Jack did not take this new bit of news well, wrinkling his nose and distractedly ruffling his hair with one hand. "I don't suppose those dryer bags count?"

"You shouldn't use those. Fire hazard. Horrible," Kate piped in, not even pausing in her usual frenetic pace of circular knitting.

"Ignore her," Andrew laughed. "She forgot to take her happy pill this morning."

"My therapist said the knitting was supposed to help!" Kate insisted. "I just need to keep at it."

Across the room, Jack looked interested. "Your therapist made you knit? Mine too."

"Really? Do you find it helpful? Because personally, I miss Prozac."

Confusion clouded Jack's eyes temporarily – Kate often had that effect on people. "Oh. Um. No. My _physical_ therapist. Something about appendix dexterity."

"Appendage, Jack," the girl corrected.

"Oh, for arthritis?" Sue piped up cheerfully. "We have a few new knitters dealing with that. It's wonderful, isn't it?"

Apparently, this was also the wrong thing to say, judging from the faint frown that passed over Jack's face as he looked down at the girl. "Do I really look _that_ old?"

She smothered a grin. "Well, only on your bad days."

He heaved a sigh. "Damn job is making me go gray. Remind me to quit."

"What, now you're senile, too?"

"I think the gray is distinguished actually," Andrew piped up, causing Frances to burst into a sudden, suspicious coughing fit.

"Er, thanks," Jack replied, eyeing the kid a bit warily. "Um, can one of you check us out?"

Sue nudged Andrew. "Go earn your keep."

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, practically bouncing to the register.

By now, even Kate had looked up from her knitting to watch the spectacle. For her part, Sue just shook her head and reached across the table. "Would either of you like a brownie? They're homemade."

"Thanks!" the little girl exclaimed, her smile bright.

"Cassie," Jack warned. "We probably shouldn't." Sue found the warning amusing considering the way he was eyeing the plate himself.

"Don't be silly. Every new customer gets a free brownie," she assured him.

"See, Jack?" the now-named girl commented. "We don't want to be impolite, do we?"

"Well, when you put it _that_ way..." he trailed off before grabbing one for each of them. "Just don't tell your mother."

"I never do," Cassie said cheerfully through a mouth of chocolate.

"Good." Jack nodded and took a bite, grinning. "I don't like it when she breaks out the big needles just for me."

Silence fell throughout the room, and it took him a few moments to notice the slightly horrified looks now aimed his way. Hastily, Jack swallowed and explained, "Uh, her mom is my doctor."

"Thank god," Sue distinctly heard Kate say in an undertone.

From behind the counter, Andrew cleared his throat. "Um, your total comes to 114.24. Would you like to pay by cash, check, or charge?"

Groaning, Jack handed Andrew a MasterCard. "Kid, this cannot happen too often. A poor little Colonel's salary can't handle it."

"You're in the military?" Sue asked, intrigued.

"Yes, ma'am. Air Force."

She considered. "Andrew, knock twenty-five percent off that total. Military discount."

"Bless you, ma'am," Jack replied, grinning.

Looking at his expression, Sue found that she couldn't help but return it. "Just promise me that you'll come back. No one will believe me when I tell them I've got a handsome knitting Air Force Colonel as a customer."

"Oh, we'll be back," Cassie assured her. "I saw this really pretty blue mohair that Sam would love."

"Is Sam your mother?" Sue asked, assuming, Andrew aside, that most men weren't going to be into blue mohair.

"No," Cassie smiled a bit.

"Oh, your girlfriend, then?" Sue asked, this time speaking to Jack.

He shifted a bit on his feet. "No, just a coworker."

"Who knows Cassie?"

Cassie and Jack shared a quick look. "It's...complicated."

Sue nodded in understanding. "Some of the best things are. Just look at Kate."

"Hey!"

"It was a compliment, dear."

"Sort of," Frances muttered.

"You're not exactly simple yourself, you know," Kate muttered, glaring a bit at Frances.

"Yeah, but I'm interesting," Frances answered, flicking a speck of dust from her Doc Martens and smirking.

"Enough, ladies," Sue hushed them, looking at her new customers apologetically. "You'll have to excuse them. They spend too much time here and are horrifyingly unaccustomed to new company."

"It's Sue's fault, really," Frances smirked. "She keeps feeding us."

"If she usually brings in those brownies, I don't blame you," said Jack.

"Brownies are the least of it. Cakes. Cookies. Pie. Homemade bread. All carbs. My personal trainer has had to work me twice as hard since I picked up knitting," Kate said mournfully.

Cassie laughed. "Oh, now he'll _definitely_ be coming back."

"For cake? Yeahsureyabetcha."


	10. Snagged

Author: Ryuu (karmaasteryahoo

Author: Ryuu

Timeline: After _Out of Mind_/_Into the Fire_

--

"Just give me a few minutes and try to start it when I tell you, okay sir?" came his second's muffled voice as she leaned over the innards of his truck. Jack nodded mutely, trying very hard not to…admire parts of her that her current position made very visible.

"…sir?"

Jack jerked a bit. "Right. Just tell me when."

Well, you couldn't really blame him, right? Jack O'Neill had always had a certain…fondness for mechanically-inclined women. When he met Sara, things had been congenial enough at the start, but then he'd come over one day to find her covered in grease and sweat while she worked on a friend's old Chevy like a mechanic born and realized that, not only was she the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but that he was suddenly, ridiculously, and deeply in love. It was all he could do to keep from proposing to her on the spot.

"Sir?" He looked up to find Carter eyeing him quizzically. "You can start it up now."

"Right. " He coughed. "I'll, just, uh…go and…do that."

Something that might have been a rapidly-suppressed smile crossed her face but vanished entirely too quickly for any possible identification. "That would be a good plan, sir."

Yep. He resolved never to play cards with her. The woman had a poker face to die for. Jack fumbled for his keys and climbed into the cab. After a few false starts, the truck roared into life and then abruptly let out a mighty sputter and went completely silent.

"…dammit!" There was a muffled thud as Sam hit the underside of the hood and leaned back over the engine, muttering under her breath. Jack grinned to himself, remembering Sara doing exactly the same thing. He raised an eyebrow as some of the louder muttering reached him faintly, wondering if Sara had known some of _those_ words.

He supposed that he could be excused for a couple of less-than-professional thoughts about her right now, given that he was a bit tired from being frozen, getting snaked, being frozen again, getting unsnaked, blown up, shot, and whatever else the universe had wanted to throw at him this week.

Well, for "tired," one could probably substitute "about to fall over in the next ten seconds and only staying upright through sheer force of will," and his less-than-regulation thoughts about Carter became even more understandable.

The hood slammed down, startling him out of his reverie, and he looked up to find Sam wiping grease off her hands with a rag she'd appropriated from the toolbox in the back of his truck. "Sorry, sir. I think you're going to have to call a tow-truck for this."

"I actually need an earthly mechanic when I have you right here?" Jack managed a grin. "I'm shocked, Carter."

"If it was made out of naquadah, I might be able to MacGyver you something, sir." The corners of her mouth twitched. "But I'm afraid you're going to need a computer to diagnose this any further." She stepped around to the driver's side door. "Want a ride home?"

"You sure? I live a little out of your way, don't I?"

"Not really." She smiled. "You've had a tough day, sir. Let me give you a ride."

Normally, Jack liked to think that he would have the good sense to say no, because he was exhausted and Carter had a smear of engine grease on her cheek. But...well...he was exhausted and Carter had a smear of engine grease on her cheek. The combination was worse than kryptonite. So he shrugged as he climbed out of the cab of his truck. "If you insist. Thanks."

She gave him another of those bright, heart-stopping smiles of hers. "Wanna stop for a bite on the way?"

"I think I'd fall asleep before I could eat it," Jack admitted, following her over to her car.

"Good thing I'm driving then." She unlocked the passenger door, letting him in, and walked around to the driver's side. "Just relax, sir. I'll get you home."

"You always do," he muttered as he climbed in, practically falling into the seat.

She gave him a long, indecipherable look, before settling in and sliding the key in the ignition. "No one gets left behind, sir," she finally commented, starting the car.

He smiled tiredly at her, then leaned back and closed his eyes. "Got that right, Carter."

With his eyes shut, his mind inevitably drifted toward recent events - the cold of those fake SGC rooms, the pain of the snake burrowing into his neck and mostly, the relief of waking up to Carter, alive and warm and just...there. These last days had thrown him for a loop, highlighting certain key facts that he really could have quite happily continued ignorant of. Not the least of these, he reflected, was the sudden and inescapable awareness that Carter, on top of being annoyingly brilliant and loyal and funny, was disturbingly...well, hot.

Sure, he had noticed it before. He was a man and he wasn't blind, so of course he had noticed. But it wasn't until this last mission, with her lying on a table in nothing but a sheet, that he had really been aware of it. Suddenly, there had been a perfect back and pale skin and blue eyes relieved to see him.

And later, while he was clinging to her, desperately cold and confused and fiercely glad to wake up as himself, she was just so purely _Carter_ as she held him tightly. All of the warmth and courage he associated with his second surrounded him, making him feel safe for the first time all day and he realized he was starting to care about her more than was possibly wise.

Part of him missed her warmth and wished it wasn't a court martial-able offense to ask her to hold him again. He frowned slightly and snuggled more into the seat, wishing he'd worn a thicker jacket.

"Sir?"

He blinked, turning to look at her. "Carter?"

"Are you okay, sir?"

"I…" Jack swallowed. "I'm just…cold."

She got a look of sudden comprehension on her face and touched his hand briefly. Sudden warmth flared through him, blazing all the way down to his toes.

"Carter-" he began, before trailing off, not knowing what he wanted to say.

She reached over and turned up the heat.

"Relax, sir," she repeated softly. "I'll get you home."


	11. Grafting

Title: Stitches: Casting On

Author: Christi and Ryuu

Timeline: After _Point of View._

Author's Note: So, it occurred to us that Sam and Janet were supposedly great friends, but really? We don't actually get a lot by way of proof of that. So, here, there is female bonding.

--

Eyeing Sam's over-sized Air Force sweatshirt and paint stained jeans, Janet wrinkled her nose. "Did you forget?"

Sam made a face, letting her in the door. "No. I was just sort of hoping to change your mind."

"Fat chance," Janet retorted flatly. "You are coming out with me tonight. Period."

"But, I just…I don't know. I suppose I'm not really feeling very festive," Sam protested as Janet took her hand and dragged her down the hall to her bedroom, throwing open the doors of her friend's closet and examining the contents critically.

"Sam, I love my daughter more than the use of my right arm. But this is the first time in _three months_ that she's not with either you or me all night. We are going out. We are drinking. We are going to have a good time if it kills both of us."

The expression brought a touch of humor to Sam's eyes. "How very unprofessional of you, _Doctor_."

"Oh, I think I can rightfully argue that it will serve medicinal purposes," Janet replied, grinning and tossing Sam a shirt. "Try that on."

Grumbling, but seeming a bit more acquiescent, Sam did as she was told and soon enough was properly dressed. "I don't remember the last time I wore these jeans," she muttered. "I've always thought they were a bit...tight."

Janet raised an eyebrow. "You'll be beating men off with a stick."

"Just what I need," Sam retorted, a wry smile stretching across her face, but not reaching her eyes. "Let's just go before I change my mind."

"Makeup!" Janet said brightly.

"I'll do it in the car," Sam promised, humoring her.

"You'll barely put any on, you mean."

"I...oh, fine. But you're buying me at least two rounds when we get there."

Janet grinned again. "Didn't think I'd get off that lightly."

It was clear from Sam's suppressed smile that she was starting to look forward to the evening, which was good because Janet had a feeling that they both could use a night out. Before she knew it, Sam was properly coiffed and wearing a pair of red high heels that probably should have been declared illegal. Twirling a little, Sam presented herself for inspection. "So, will I do?"

Janet nodded. "Got a big stick?"

"No, but I've got stilettos and excellent aim."

"Well, I think we're set, then."

They ended up at a bar only about ten minutes away – close enough to be convenient and far enough away that it stood at least a chance of not being overrun by base employees. As they easily claimed stools at the bar, Janet spared no time in ordering two shots of tequila.

"Well, there's mine. What are you having, Janet?" Sam asked.

Glad to see that Sam had gotten into the spirit of things, Janet grinned and ordered two more. "Feel like making a toast?" she offered.

"To what?"

Janet shrugged. "Whatever. To string theory. To hair cuts. To whatever bee is obviously stuck in your bonnet."

Sam grimaced and knocked back one of the shots.

Feeling rather clever, Janet took one herself, grinning. "God, I really am good," she proclaimed with a laugh. "I _knew_ the twin thing had to be bothering you."

"Is not," Sam muttered, knocking back the other shot.

"What are you, six?" Janet retorted, downing her second as well. "It's hardly anything to be ashamed of. I think something like that would bother anyone."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Quickly moving past amused tolerance and into annoyance, Janet just shook off her friend's mood and spun around on her stool, gazing out at the room. "All right," she said agreeably. "In that case, I'm going to occupy myself by picking some random man to flirt with shamelessly and then leave hanging."

Sam made a face and signaled the bartender over. "I'd like another one of these, please."

Though surprised by Sam's apparent determination to get trashed, Janet tried valiantly to hide it. "Careful, it's on your tab now," she teased.

Sam shrugged and took the shot the bartender handed her. "What else am I going to do with the hazard pay I'm racking up?"

"Well, you could start by sharing the wealth and buying me one," Janet retorted. "Hey, what about that one over by the pool table? He sort of looks like that guy...Kawalsky?"

"Kawalsky's dead," Sam replied, her expression oddly blank.

"No, I mean the other one," Janet clarified.

"Only one of them matters here."

She shot Sam a look. "Who, exactly, are you trying to convince?"

"This isn't about-" Sam's voice trailed off. "It...it's not about her."

Undeniably relieved that Sam finally seemed a little more willing to discuss this, Janet turned toward her once again. "What_ is_ it about, then?"

"Why did he have to kiss her?"

Now _that_ was an interesting piece of information. "Who, Colonel O'Neill? Really?"

"Yes." Sam stared morosely at her drink.

"Huh. And while you were watching? That's...bizarre," Janet noted, suddenly feeling a little more sympathetic to her friend's black mood.

"There was no need to kiss her."

Thinking about the other Sam, who had been raw and grieving, Janet wasn't so sure. But really, there was a more important issue that needed attention presently. "What does it matter?"

"She was _me_," Sam replied, as though that should have been obvious.

"But you just said that she wasn't," Janet pointed out. "You can't have it both ways."

Sam sighed. "She might as well have been me."

"Except for the part where she had bad hair, a dead husband, and the misfortune of living through the end of the world," Janet argued. "Maybe it wasn't about you. Maybe he was just being nice to her. It sort of seemed that she could use a little nice."

"That kiss was more than _nice_."

A little bit of worry began to color Janet's thinking, and she studied Sam carefully. "Sam, you know that you can't..."

"Dammit, yes, I know that."

Relief swept through Janet. "Okay, so then I guess I still don't see the problem. I mean, it's a little weird...but hey, you once tried to _mate_ with the man. A little goodbye kiss with your double is hardly comparable."

"Me channeling a chimpanzee is _not_ the same as him knowingly kissing...kissing _me_!" Sam snapped.

"Sam," Janet warned. "He _didn't_."

"It_ felt_ like he did," Sam muttered. "Only...not."

Janet considered this, the worry she felt for Sam already back and increasing with every minute this conversation went on. "Just...try and think of it like Teal'c does. It didn't even happen in this universe, so really, it didn't happen at all."

"I'm not Teal'c."

"You need to be," Janet insisted before she took a moment to think about how that had sounded. "Well, you know what I mean. This can't be a problem. It just...can't."

"It's not a problem." Sam laughed mirthlessly. "Nothing to worry about."

"Sam..." Janet reached out and took Sam's hand. "You know I'm here for you. I just...worry."

"I'm fine." She shut her eyes. "There's no problem."

Janet snorted in disbelief. "I'm calling bullshit."

Next to her, Sam blew out a long, steady stream of air, seeming to gather herself. "No, it's really not. It was just so strange, you know? I guess a girl can't help but wonder."

Janet waggled her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, look at the man. We _all_ wonder. You're just lucky enough to have ample fodder for the imagination."

That actually made Sam laugh. "That's certainly one way to look at it."

"What can I say? Sometimes, I have a one track mind," Janet admitted with an irrepressible grin.

"Well, we'd better turn it toward more useful topics, then," Sam pointed out, spinning around on her stool to face the room. "Now, where's this Kawalsky look-alike?"


	12. Felting

Title: Stitches: Casting On

Author: Christi

Timeline: After _Forever in a Day._

Author's Note: Daniel and Teal'c are hugely and admittedly neglected throughout this series. Still, there are a few notable moments where we just _can't_ ignore them.

--

For Daniel, the hours right after Sha're's death became a kind of strange, sad, Impressionist painting – he could discern separate images with startling clarity, but the entire experience somehow blurred together into an incoherent mess. He remembered Jack's stoic insistence that returning to the SGC was required for all staff inflicted with wounds from an alien device, but Daniel didn't remember agreeing to go and get checked. He remembered the heat shimmering off of Abydonian sands, but he didn't remember the actual trip back to the gate.

He remembered Sam being by his side, but it wasn't until after a few hours of restless sleep that he realized she had never left. When he turned his head to the cot beside him, it was almost jarring to see her perched there; silently waiting for whatever came next.

Despite Sha're's deathbed pleas, Daniel had to admit to more than a little confusion over what that was. So instead of dwelling on it, he reached across the gap between the beds and took Sam's hand. She held on tightly, teary blue eyes trying to convey everything that words could not.

He tried to speak once, but had to clear his throat around the lump that had taken residence there. Finally, he managed to rasp out a sincere, "Thank you for staying."

"Oh, Daniel," Sam sighed. "Of course."

Wanly, he tried to smile, but he had the feeling it came out like more of a grimace. "Teal'c and Jack..?"

"They were here for a while earlier," she assured him. "I don't think they really wanted to be here when you woke up, though."

This made sense to him – they all knew what it was to lose someone, and for Jack and Teal'c, it was an intensely private experience. Only Sam would have stayed because Sam understood needing someone else to see you through the pain. They had both already lived through the desolation of not having that need fulfilled once.

Daniel would do the same for her without a second thought. For her sake, though, he hoped that he would never have to.

"Did Kasuf tell us when the burial rites would begin? I can't seem to remember…." He asked, wanting to be there for the rituals that had meant so much to his wife.

"He said it would take a day to prepare," Sam assured him. "And according to Janet, you'll be fine to go by then." She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you want us to come with you? I don't know if Abydonian funeral customs allow guests."

The question made him want to smile, because it was thoughtful and sweet and awkward all at once. He couldn't quite manage it, though. "Actually, the people of Abydos don't believe in funerals. Burial rites are about celebrating a person's life, not mourning their death. And yes, I would like you to be there."

"The Colonel and Teal'c, too?"

"All of you," he affirmed, slowly getting out of bed and standing. "I want…well, the last three years have been about saving Sha're. Now that we can't, I think it might be nice if you could know who she was. Better late than never, right?"

In a rush, Sam stood as well, lunging forward and pulling him into a tight hug, and there was so much comfort in knowing that she was right there that Daniel's knees went weak. Helpless from the emotions flooding him, he buried his face in Sam's shoulder, silent tears rolling down his face and soaking into her green BDUs.

After a few moments, he tried to pull away a little, but she wouldn't let him, arms of iron clinging around him steadily. "Sam, I'm getting all sorts of disgusting stuff on your shirt," he pointed out, voice already stuffy from tears.

"I don't care," she replied easily.

That was sweet of her, but really, Daniel knew that he was not a pretty crier. "But…."

"Shut up, Daniel."

He sniffled once, then finally gave up, collapsing on her because right now, it seemed that it would take Herculean effort to stand on his own two feet. "Okay."

So because she understood him better than just about anyone else, she stayed there, holding him up because he couldn't do it himself. And at some point, Daniel realized that she was crying, too.

Strangely, it made him feel a little bit better. Not much, of course, but there was some measure of solace in the fact that his friend was sharing his pain like this. It bolstered him, because while pain shared by two wasn't any less, it was somehow a little more bearable.

When he pulled away a second time, she didn't try to stop him. Daniel just held her at arm's length, taking in her own red-rimmed eyes and puffy face. "We look horrible," he said with a helpless chuckle.

She grinned, sheepishly wiping off her face with slightly shaking hands. "Yeah, well, such is life," she easily dismissed. "Hey, you're probably miserable in those clothes. I think someone brought in your spares from the locker room. Want them?"

Now that she mentioned it, Daniel realized he did feel pretty awful. Dried sweat and sand and a little blood did not exactly make good sleepwear. "That would be great."

She disappeared behind a curtain and returned with a stack of neatly folded clothes, smiling at something brightly colored resting on top. Handing it over, she remarked, "Nice socks."

Blinking in confusion, Daniel looked down to see a pair of thick, golden brown socks resting on top of his clothing. They were obviously hand-knit, and the color reminded him of Abydos, all warmth and sand and sun. Still, as attractive as they were…. "These aren't mine."

He thought he might have seen a glimmer of some unidentifiable emotion pass over Sam's face, but just as quickly, it was gone, a slight frown in its place. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

They both puzzled over it for a moment before Sam shrugged. "Well, they were with your things and they're the only socks there, so I guess that they're yours now."

Impulsively, Daniel sat down on the cot and shed his boots and dirty socks, pulling on the new pair, staring down at his own feet. It was strange, but the moment he put them on, he felt better. His feet had been cold with shock for hours, and the warm, soft wool next to his skin was soothing, somehow. "They're nice," he remarked.

"I know," Sam replied off-handedly. When he looked at her strangely, she just shrugged. "I have a similar pair."

"Ah," he acknowledged, looking back at his feet and managing to smile a little, despite everything.

Above him, Sam squeezed his shoulder. "Come on, go get showered. I'll find the guys and tell them to get ready."

Daniel took her hand and used it to propel himself upright, pulling her into one last hug. "Seriously, Sam. Thank you."

With a deep sigh, she leaned her forehead against his, two friends huddled together against cruel reality. "Daniel, you don't have to thank me. Not ever. Not for this."

He knew that, Daniel realized on the way to the bathroom. It was just weirdly wonderful to realize that while his world was collapsing under its own horrible weight, he wasn't the only one left to pick up the pieces.

--

It had been a sad day.

Being a jaffa, Teal'c had known sad days before – there seemed to be no end of them in war, and the goa'uld were always at war. Today, however, had been a very specific kind of trauma, one he doubted would ever be forgotten by those who witnessed it.

He wished that he could forget the horrible choice of having to kill his friend's beloved wife. And despite Daniel Jackson's few short words of reassurance, Teal'c wondered if his friend would ever – _could_ ever – truly forgive him.

Behind him, a door opened and shut, pulling Teal'c out of his reverie. Turning, he saw O'Neill entering the room, looking as weary as Teal'c felt.

"Hey, Teal'c," O'Neill said sedately. "You okay?"

Taking into account the day's events, Teal'c reflected that this was perhaps one of O'Neill's more ridiculous questions. "I am not, O'Neill."

The honest answer seemed to be simultaneously expected and surprising to his friend, who finally nodded jerkily, sitting next to Teal'c on the long wooden bench of the locker room. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Teal'c reflected, trying to gauge his inner turmoil. "I do not," he finally replied. He had found over the course of his life that there were many things better left unexamined.

It was a concept that many Tau'ri seemed to struggle with.

Thankfully, O'Neill was not one of them, easily accepting Teal'c's reluctance and respecting his wishes. "Fair enough," the younger man said.

Instead of undertaking a lengthy and undoubtedly pointless examination of the day's events, both men merely remained where they were, the silence heavy with the words they would not say. "Oh," O'Neill finally said, shifting his weight awkwardly, "I made something for you."

Although some Tau'ri customs were still unfamiliar to Teal'c, he knew that this was an unusual time to be bestowing one with gifts. It seemed so dramatically incongruous that he was forced to question O'Neill's motives. "You wish to give me something to commemorate the day I killed Daniel Jackson's wife?"

O'Neill, who had stood and begun rifling through his locker, looked startled at first, then walked over to where Teal'c sat, clasping his shoulder with one strong hand. "No, Teal'c," O'Neill correctly solemnly. "I want to give you something to remember the day you _saved _Daniel."

It was a subtle difference, Teal'c thought, but an important one. So he accepted the small bundle O'Neill thrust in his direction, and found upon examining it that he was now holding a pair of socks.

They were very unlike the utilitarian white socks worn by most team members, the most obvious difference being their bright orange color. While some might find the intensity of the color unsettling, it was one of Teal'c's favorite shades, and would go nicely with many of what O'Neill called his Hawaiian shirts. The fabric of the sock was softer than usual, and when Teal'c put them on his feet, they fit perfectly.

Feeling honored by such a gift, Teal'c looked at his comrade. "I thank you, O'Neill."

A half-smile, partially awkward and partially pleased, touched O'Neill's face. "You like them, then?"

"Indeed," Teal'c assured him.

"Good. I was…well, good. That's good," O'Neill said repeatedly, seemingly at a loss. Thankfully, Major Carter chose that moment to enter the locker room and their conversation was cut short.

"Oh good, you're both here," she noted as she made her way to her own locker. "Listen, if you don't mind, Daniel wants us all to go to back to Abydos with him."

Turning away and busying himself, O'Neill nodded. "Sure, we were just getting ready."

Major Carter smiled, turning away with her arms full of a change in clothing. "Good," she remarked, already on her way out. However, when she was nearly there, something caught her eye and she stopped. "Hey, Teal'c. Hot socks."

Amused at the expression, Teal'c nodded. "Thank you, Major Carter. They were a gift."

Because he sensed that O'Neill preferred it, he did not mention who the gift was from.

Major Carter just smiled. "Lucky you," she noted. "Strange, though. Daniel found a pair a lot like them with his own clothes today."

"That is unusual," Teal'c agreed.

She looked at him for one more moment, then turned away once more, a small smile still spread across her face. And though Teal'c was not certain of it, he believed he saw her hand brush O'Neill's arm and squeeze lightly as she passed him on her way out the door.


	13. Spun Around

Title: Stitches: Casting On

Author: Christi and Ryuu

Timeline: Before and after _Foothold._

Author's Note: It's about time for Sam to devise her own Brilliant Sock Plan, don't you think?

--

As resourceful as she was, Sam was forced to acknowledge that some problems were beyond her skills – completely out of her control. Even if she didn't like that fact, it was reality, and right now, reality was biting her in the ass.

Or, more accurately, the foot.

She was fairly certain that if she glared at her own feet any more intensely, it was entirely possible that she would burn a hole right through them. "This is bad," Sam stated balefully.

"Very bad," Cassie agreed gravely.

Janet, who was admittedly somewhat out of the loop, looked between the two of them, confused. "What is?"

"Well, _this_," Sam reiterated, gesturing wildly to her feet, where her big toe had just had the nerve to rip through her electric blue, hand-knit socks.

Janet blinked. "Well...do you remember where you bought them? Can't you buy another pair?"

"I'd hardly be upset if I could do that. But these were special socks," Sam retorted, realizing that she was whining and not caring much - tomorrow was sure to be a long, wet, cold day and she had wanted her socks. They were warm, and comfortable, and tended to take a lot of moisture before becoming gross and soggy.

Plus, they were just…special socks.

Surprisingly, Cassie said it best. "Those are the Jack socks," she tried to explain.

"Jack...socks..." Janet blinked again.

"Jack made them for her," Cassie clarified.

"And they're some of the nicest socks I've ever had. And now they have a hole," Sam stated, pouting in a most unattractive fashion. Objectively, she realized that she was being ridiculous. But during girl's night, ridiculous behavior was tacitly allowed by all parties, and she really _was_ upset.

"Easy there, Sam. Your pathetic side is showing," Cassie teased.

If anything, this merely caused Sam to pout a little more, although now there was admittedly a touch of humor in it. "I hate the wet planets."

Janet patted her shoulder, a hint of a smile flitting around her mouth. "Well, maybe Jack could make you another pair?"

"I can't just ask him for socks!" Sam protested. "I mean, I'm still sort of trying to figure out the rules, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"There are...rules?" Janet raised an eyebrow.

"We think so," Cassie confirmed. "The intricacies of Jack's Brilliant Sock Plan are still a bit sketchy."

"And he's called it that?"

"Only when under the influence," Cassie assured her.

Janet shook her head. "I worry about all of you."

"That's probably wise," Sam agreed, flopping onto her couch next to them with a distinct air of dejection. "I want more socks."

"Okay." Janet held up a hand, trying to stop the progression of this thoroughly ridiculous conversation. "Let's look at this logically. Why did Jack make you the socks in the first place?"

Sam grinned, looking down at her feet once more and wiggling her toes. "Look at the color. Remind you of anything?"

Janet studied them with a faint frown. "It's too bright to be the starg-oh. _Oh_."

"Yeah. They showed up in my locker about a week after that whole debacle."

"So...he made you socks to thank you for saving his ass?"

"So it would seem," Sam agreed, pondering this. "Wait. Are you seriously suggesting that I make it a point to...well, do my job in hopes that he will make me more socks?"

"Think of it as a bonus?" Janet suggested with a grin.

"That's...so ridiculous that it might actually work," Sam noted thoughtfully. "Are you sure that you weren't an evil genius in a past life?"

Curled up between them, Cassie grinned. "Who said anything about a_ past_ life?"

--

As it had turned out, the wet planet had been the least of Sam's problems. Arriving back at the SGC and finding herself in the midst of a serious foothold scenario had understandably distracted her for a few days. By the time it was all over, she was past exhaustion, wanting nothing more than at least twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Well, she reflected upon entering the locker room to get her things, maybe a shower first. _Then_ sleep.

Unfortunately, she was tired enough to forget about protocol. Tired enough not to check the sign on the locker room door. And definitely tired enough that when coming face-to-face with her CO who was wearing only a slightly damp towel around his waist, she could only stare.

Seemingly unaware of her discomfort or the reason for it, the Colonel merely smiled at her. "There's the lady of the hour," he praised.

She flushed. "I, uh, I...I should go away."

"Don't rush out on my account. I'm just going to grab my stuff and get going myself," he assured her. "I know I didn't break out of a secure facility, fly to Washington, and single-handedly thwart an entire alien invasion today, but let me tell ya, hanging from the ceiling in that purple gunk took its toll."

"Sir!" She fought the urge to laugh hysterically. "You're not wearing pants. You can't think of a reason that I should leave?"

Her exclamation caused him to look down at himself, suddenly seeming to realize his state of undress. "Well...crap." If she hadn't known better, Sam would even swear that he began to blush. "Sorry about that, Carter. Just...step outside. I'll be quick."

She was unable to prevent a short, slightly-hysterical giggle from escaping, rapidly clapping a hand over her mouth to prevent another one.

His eyes narrowed before an expression of mock chagrin locked into place. "Go on, now. You're ruining my virtuous reputation."

"S-sorry, sir," she gasped, gratefully leaning against the wall. "Just...just tired."

The admission extinguished any trace of humor from his expression, and instead he looked deeply sympathetic. "I know. You're not planning to drive home, are you? Because I'm not sure you're really up to it."

"I, uh, hadn't really thought about it?" she admitted sheepishly.

He nodded. "I'll drive you home. Just...let me get dressed, would you?"

She flushed again, "Er...thank you, sir."

"It's the least I can do, Carter," he dismissed easily. "Seeing as you pretty much saved all our asses today."

She paused, remembering that girl night that seemed so long ago now. "Saved your ass?"

"Such as it is," he confirmed lightly. "And seriously, you're not planning on leaving, are you?" Smirking at her, he turned to his own locker and grabbed his clothes to take back into the bathroom and change. "When you're tempted to think that chivalry is dead, remember this moment," he ordered over his shoulder as he made his way to the adjoining room.

"Sir, yes, sir!" she called back, still giggling a bit.

"Are you mocking me?" he protested, obviously in high spirits despite the disasters of the last few days.

"I would never, sir," she protested, albeit weakly, finishing the few steps to her locker. The clasp was sticking a little, and she had to pull harder than usual to get the metal door to swing open. When it finally did, the force jostled the contents a bit, and something fell into her hands.

Make that two somethings, she mentally corrected as she looked down at two perfectly sized, bright purple socks.

Even as tired as she was, holding a new pair of socks made her grin stupidly. Janet had been right – further proof that the former evil genius theory needed to be revisited, Sam thought. But that didn't matter now, and neither did the exhaustion and the jet lag and the mental replay she kept having of shooting the Colonel's double. All that mattered was that she had socks, which meant that she had done well.

The Colonel reentered the locker room just then, toweling his hair dry, but fully clothed. "What've you got there?" he asked, with an air of innocence so convincing that she nearly believed it.

"Socks," she replied happily.

"Ah," he said, smiling that enigmatic little half-smile of his, "You never know when you'll need a pair of good socks."

If anything, this made her clutch them tighter. "No, sir," she agreed.

They stood like that for a few minutes, things that _could_ be said left comfortably unvoiced. Finally, he broke the stillness, shaking his head. "Go get showered," he said dismissively. "I'll wait outside to take you home."


	14. Frayed

Stitches: Frayed

Author: Ryuu

Timeline: During and post-_Shades of Gray_

Author's Notes:

--

Sometimes, Sam wished that soap and water could wash away unwelcome thoughts as easily as they removed external grime. She shut off the water and stepped from the shower, briskly toweling off and determinedly thinking cheerful, banal thoughts.

She certainly wasn't going to think of what the Colonel had said to her or Daniel, or how she'd been completely wrong about him_. _Or how he'd completely refused to even _look _at them as he left to see a woman he'd only known for the three months when she'd nearly killed herself trying to get him back. And didn't he know how much that had hurt her when he'd-

Sam let out a deep breath and ruthlessly cut down that line of thought, trying to distract herself by dividing pi by sequential prime numbers. She tossed the towel in the direction of the hamper and wandered towards her dresser, pulling out clean clothing and dropping it on the bed.

How could she have been so wrong about him? He had a…history. She _knew_ that. She'd thumbed through his file before she'd even come to the SGC. She'd cleverly interrogated Daniel, for god's sake!

Okay, so clever interrogation of Daniel involved an embarrassingly small amount of tequila, but still.

He'd changed after the first Abydos mission. Everyone who'd known him then and everyone who'd encountered him since said that he wasn't the same person. He cared about his duty. He cared about the SGC.

Hell, she thought he'd cared about his team! She thought he'd cared about _her_!

Sam yanked open her underwear drawer and stopped short at the sight of a small, cheerily-colored collection of socks sitting happily on top of her underwear. Damn him and his socks. His socks that she loved. His socks that she thought meant something.She stared at them for a moment before grabbing the socks out of the drawer and throwing them on the bed in one angry motion.

She picked up the wastepaper basket, prepared to slam the socks into it and stopped, staring at a familiar blue sock dangling from one of her fingers. Even after they'd become entirely too holey to wear, she couldn't bear to throw these socks away. Each one was a memory, a time that she'd done the impossible to save him. No, she corrected herself, to save her team - to save the world.

But it was lies. All of it. She'd practically killed herself for him and he bought her off with _socks_. And he didn't even _care_. He couldn't even bother himself to turn and _look_ at them before he left!

Sam froze, socks still in hand, her own thoughts striking her like a slap. What was she doing? The socks were damn comfortable. And warm. And she was thinking like a jealous girlfriend. Which she was not. At all.

Slowly, she lifted the socks. She'd never really noticed how intricate the individual stitches were or appreciated how these socks were, essentially just very long pieces of endlessly-looped string, cleverly looped together to form something that kept her feet warm even on the coldest planets.

How long did it take to knit something like this? She wondered how long it took to even learn how, or if anyone who was just pretending to be on her side would even bother going to the time and trouble of hand-knitting socks for her.

She stared at the socks for a moment longer before putting down the wastepaper basket and walking out of the room. A few minutes later she came back with an empty shoebox and stuffed the socks into it, dropping the cover on it and slipping it under the bed.

The socks could stay, at least for a little while. At least until she figured out if he was lying to her or not.

--

"Carter!"

Sam closed her eyes and let out a silent curse before turning to face her determinedly-grinning CO. She'd been so, so close to making a clean getaway. "Sir?"

"So, Daniel and Teal'c are having a craving for steak and since the Earth's avoided getting blown up this week, we decided to celebrate by going out to get some."

"Sounds nice, sir. Have a good time. Uh, if you'll excuse me…"

"Well, I…" he cleared his throat, "_we _were hoping you might tag along."

"Sir_…_" she began.

"I mean, given the world still being intact and all…" He trailed off, looking at her hopefully.

"Sir, I… have things I need to do tonight," Sam stated, her jaw clenching despite herself.

"Carter, we-" he paused, then patted the side of her arm. "All right. I'll catch you next time. Don't work too late." He squeezed her arm gently. "That's an order, Major."

"Yes, sir," she murmured, sparing him a quick glance before stepping into the locker room. She leaned against the door, trying to fend off the heavy feeling that had settled in her chest before shaking her head and walking to her locker.

The lock stuck as Sam tried to pull it open and she grimaced, realizing that once again, she'd forgotten to fix it.

After some shaking, tugging and slight swearing, the door swung open and Sam, intent on pulling out her civilian clothing, stopped and stared.

Sitting on top of her neatly-folded jeans was a hat and a pair of socks made of a delicate, heathery-grey yarn. Without thinking, she reached out and touched them, making a soft sound of appreciation as her fingertips encountered the warm, soft smoothness that bespoke very high-quality and costly wool.

She lifted the items out, studying the thousands of tiny, intricate stitches and biting her lip as she felt that heavy feeling in her chest come back. Her suddenly-cold fingers tightened on the brim of her new hat, letting the yarn warm them.

His bag had been searched before he left for Edora and he'd been back on Earth for less than a week. The only time he could have knitted this was during that whole horrible "early retirement" where none of them were talking.

She stroked the cuff of one of the socks. He'd been thinking of her after all, an exultant voice deep in the back of her mind whispered. No one knitted expensive, time-consuming gifts for someone they didn't care about.

Quickly coming to a decision, Sam spun around and headed out of the locker room, part of her not really surprised to find him leaning against the wall a few feet away.

"Sir?"

His eyes flickered to the knitting in her hands and then back to her face, a slight smile lighting his features. "Carter?"

"Those things I needed to take care of?" He nodded, the slight smile quirking upwards, "Rescheduled."

His eyebrows rose, "Really?"

"Really." She assured, meeting his gaze evenly.

He reached out and patted the side of her arm again, his eyes warm. "I'll meet you up top, Carter."

"Yes, sir." She smiled shyly at him, tightly clutching her new socks as she ducked back into the locker room to change.


	15. Invisible Increase

Stitches: Invisible Increase

Author: Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Crystal Skull_.

Author's Note: As usual, Daniel's the last one to catch on. How typical.

--

The truth was that being invisible hadn't been all bad. Sure, the novelty of the situation had worn thin after awhile, but Daniel had to admit in retrospect that there had been decided benefits to being able to see what went on behind closed doors. Like knowing for certain that yes, Teal'c really _did_ kelno'reem that much. Or that Siler often only reported about half of his actual injuries. Or that Jack….

A smirk touched the corners of Daniel's mouth before he could curb it, unable to do anything but relish that final, most useful piece of information. After three years of being teased and cut off and ignored by Jack, Daniel finally, _finally _had an advantage – leverage.

Which was why he chose his words so carefully during the debriefing – he didn't want Jack to realize that his downfall was imminent. It wasn't until after General Hammond had dismissed them that Daniel put his plan into effect, running to catch up to Jack as he strode down the hall.

In typical Jack fashion, Daniel was ignored as long as possible. It was only after several minutes, when it became clear that Daniel was not going to be deterred, that Jack gave in and acknowledged his presence. "Daniel."

"Jack," Daniel replied in the same even tone.

"Something on your mind?"

"Maybe. Did you know that while I was stuck in that parallel dimension, I could walk through walls?"

Though Jack feigned indifference, Daniel thought he detected a definite tension around Jack's mouth and eyes. "I'm sure you probably mentioned it during that _stimulating _debriefing."

His tone made Daniel feel a bit sheepish – even he had to admit that in his care not to reveal his extracurricular activities over the last few days, he might have caused the meeting to drag on even longer than usual. But then, Daniel realized that feeling sheepish was one of those things that he didn't have to do anymore – not with the leverage. "Yes, well, my point is that for the first time, I could go anywhere. Do anything. See people when they most certainly did not see me."

"I never figured you for a voyeur, Daniel."

Annoyed now, Daniel glared at his friend. "I'm an _anthropologist_, Jack. We're sort of the original historical voyeurs." Although if he was completely honest, the term had nearly been too literal when he had stumbled upon Lieutenant Simmons and Nurse Bradford involved in some decidedly non-regulation activity. But he digressed. "Anyway, that's not the point."

"You mean, you have one?" Jack asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes," Daniel insisted. "My point is that one of the many, _many_ interesting things I saw was you."

"I'm not that interesting," Jack protested.

"I beg to differ," Daniel replied. "After all, it's not every day that I see you knit."

Jack's reaction – or lack thereof – was admittedly a bit disappointing. As far as Daniel could tell, his great revelation didn't seem to faze Jack in the slightest. Instead, his only reply was a comfortably neutral, "Daniel, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Jack, you can't deny it this time!" Daniel insisted. "I'm not high and delirious with fever and withdrawal. I saw you, clear as day, sitting in your quarters knitting something yellow and…well, _fluffy_. You knit. And now, I know."

Jack simply continued walking down the hall in silence, allowing Daniel to continue his rambling. "What I don't understand is how you even picked up a hobby like that. And what you would do with it. I mean, what in the world do you make? The same black beanie, over and over again?"

"Well, I imagine – and I have to imagine because I _have no idea what you're talking about_ – that a person could knit all sorts of useful things. Scarves. Sweaters. Socks."

Socks. The word seemed to hang in the air between them, and suddenly Daniel was remembering a pair of golden socks that had appeared out of nowhere, making a day of misery a little less horrible. Not a lot, mind you, but enough. "Damn," he muttered finally. "You suck the fun out of _everything_."

Jack, rather than looking insulted, smirked. "And to think that's normally your job."

"Funny," Daniel said dryly. "Listen, about the socks…."

"What socks?" Jack asked, honestly sounding clueless. Even Daniel had to give him credit – the man was good at feigning obliviousness. But, fine. If it was that important to him, they could just not talk about it. Daniel was capable of that.

Maybe.

"Fine. Have it your way," Daniel acquiesced as they finally got to the elevator. When it opened, they found Teal'c already on board, and Daniel's previous – and brief - serenity about the whole ridiculous situation snapped. "Hey Teal'c. Jack can knit."

Daniel really had no idea what reaction he had expected, but it certainly wasn't, "I am aware, Daniel Jackson."

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud…."

The side of Daniel's mouth twitched a bit, facing forward into the reflective silver doors of the elevator. "Sounds like a confirmation to me, Jack."

"All it confirms is that T here has a surprisingly active imagination," Jack protested. "Who woulda thunk?"

"Who indeed?" Teal'c replied with a slight bow of the head that Daniel could just see out of the corner of his eye. Jack never had a chance to reply, however, as the doors opened once more and Sam climbed in, joining them for their ride to the surface for their previously scheduled team night.

They all exchanged light greetings as she climbed in and amazingly, Daniel even managed to hold his tongue until the doors slid shut again before blurting out once more, "Jack knits."

Silence fell over the small space before Sam turned to Daniel, one eyebrow quirked. "Are you feeling quite all right, Daniel?" she inquired.

"He does! I saw him!" he insisted, feeling a bit like a tattle-telling six year old. He didn't quite understand why he wanted it to be acknowledged quite so desperately – maybe he thought that if Jack was forced to admit it, then Daniel could stop feeling like he had somehow intruded on something sacred.

Obviously placating him, Sam reached out and patted Daniel's shoulder. "If you say so."

Jack, who had been lurking somewhere behind them, slipped between them as the doors opened and easily slung an arm around Sam's shoulders as they began the walk into the parking lot. "Carter, your first drink tonight is totally on me."

"The first, sir?"

If anything, his smirk spread a bit, verging on a real, full-blown smile. "First three?"

She grinned up at him. "That's what I thought you said."

Unreasonably frustrated over the whole incident and not really understanding why, Daniel followed them, glowering at them darkly. And if he hadn't been scowling so emphatically at their backs, he might never have noticed Sam gazing at him as she slipped into her car.

He might've missed the subtle, but distinct wink she sent in his direction.


	16. Novelty Yarns

Stitches: Novelty Yarns

Author: Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: The first bit comes right after _Nemesis_, when they're marooned on that planet, and the rest come scattered through early nameless S4.

Author's Note: The end of S3 and beginning of S4 is such a happy, silly time. Well, mainly. Sort of. Er. It is for the optimists? Anyway, we thought it required a few happy, silly ficlets to commemorate it.

--

Really, if you had to be stuck on an alien planet, Jack had to admit that there were worse places than P3X-234. At the very least, the weather was temperate, there was fresh water, and even some good fishing once he had managed to jury rig a pole.

Which was why his current predicament was so ridiculous. Considering that he was alive and on a hospitable planet, Jack had no legitimate cause for complaint and yet, he found himself irrationally moody today.

He couldn't have predicted it – after all, when requesting provisions for what he had assumed would be a suicide mission, Jack hadn't really thought there would be time to sit down and knit a few rows.

The only thing making him feel a little better about the whole thing was Daniel's absence, because at least Carter and Teal'c were smart enough not to comment on Jack's obvious mood.

Seeing as Carter was currently trudging up the hill toward him, however, Jack thought that he might end up having to revise that conclusion.

Squinting, he looked up at her as she towered over him. "You're blocking my sun, Carter."

Unless he was hallucinating, she actually rolled her eyes before plopping down onto the ground next to him. "Sorry, sir."

Feeling foolish, Jack sighed, all the while wondering why being on a team like this one was sometimes a little too close to being married again. "No, I'm sorry. I'm…in a mood."

This time, he knew he hadn't imagined the fleeting smile as she settled her chin on her knees. "Really? Teal'c and I hadn't noticed."

He glared at her. "Very funny, Major."

"I thought so," she confirmed with a grin that he couldn't help but return.

Before he could get too comfortable just _looking_ at her (which was pretty damn easy to do, he had discovered), Jack changed the subject. "You know, I should be mad at you two."

"Oh?" she asked, sounding completely unconcerned in a way that both amused and irritated him.

"Yes! You…you defied my orders!"

"They were lousy orders," she said dismissively. "Besides, General Hammond overruled you. If anything, we should be mad at you for making them in the first place."

"Hey!" he objected, beginning to feel legitimately testy. "_I'm _the commanding officer, remember?"

She closed her eyes, as though gathering her patience, before opening them and gazing right at him. "Trust me when I say I'm very aware of that fact. But…well, the team has been together three years now. Did you really expect us to just leave you there?"

As much as he admired her (and Jack was well aware that it was too much), he sort of hated it when she made him feel all of two inches tall. "I was just…."

"I know," she interrupted with that soft smile once again.

"I'm sorry," he said, and actually meant it, which was even more surprising.

She shrugged, unfolding her legs and standing once again, a little stretch (understandably) distracting him for a minute. "It's fine. Just don't do it again."

He raised an eyebrow at her tone. "Was that an order?"

"Of course not, sir," she said in a tone that clearly implied that it had been. As he watched, she fished in her pockets for a moment before obviously grasping something and tossing it to him. "Here."

Jack caught it purely on reflex and had to look down at it for a moment before the object really registered. "A yo-yo?"

"I thought it might help," she said by way of clarification.

"Help with what?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Nothing in particular," Carter replied, innocence laced so thick in her tone that it made him chuckle.

"Now now, I _know_ you have a better poker face than that," he teased her.

"Of course I do, sir," she acknowledged before beginning to walk back down the hill.

"Hey Carter!" he called after her. "Why in the world were you carrying around a yo-yo?"

She turned toward him and in that second, with the alien sun streaming from behind her and that ridiculously perfect smile on her face, Jack couldn't breathe.

"I wasn't. It's Teal'c's."

--

It just figured that Daniel's first mission back after his appendectomy had to be to an ice planet. He _hated_ ice planets. He had lived on a desert world for over a year quite comfortably – hadn't that been a clue about his climate of choice?

The glare on ice planets gave him a headache. He was allergic to down and thus, had to have heavier, alternative winter wear. Not to mention that no matter how many pairs of socks he managed to put on while still being able to fit his feet in his boots, his feet somehow always got sopping wet and thus, frozen solid.

Figuratively, anyway.

And then it occurred to him – a solution so beautiful in its simplicity that Daniel actually had to curb the impulse to cheer. It would work, he was sure of it.

If only he could get Jack to agree.

Attempting to be subtle (and he suspected, failing miserably), Daniel slowly put down his many pairs of white, cotton socks…in favor of one perfect, hand-knit, 100% wool pair. "Jack…" he began, with a purposeful whine laced in his tone.

That particular tone had always irked Jack, so it was no surprise when he looked up from what he had been doing to glare at Daniel. The expression only increased when the older man caught sight of what Daniel was holding. "_No_," Jack stated emphatically.

"But Jack...it's _cold_ on P4X-768," Daniel persisted. "Besides, what good are all these socks you give us if we don't use them?"

Across the room, Jack's face took on a particularly vexed look that Daniel had learned to sort of relish over the last few years. "Daniel, I have never given you – _any_ of you - socks."

"If you say so," Daniel said agreeably. "But then why can't we wear the mysteriously appearing socks of indeterminate origin? They'd certainly be warmer than THREE of these crap cotton things."

In fact, the woolen socks Jack had given him were so warm that Daniel couldn't comfortably wear them about eight months of the year on Earth. But in this particular case, he was convinced that they were exactly what the podiatrist had ordered.

"I believe Daniel Jackson is correct, O'Neill," Teal'c finally chimed in. (Score one for having another desert-dweller on your side.)

Even Sam seemed to be in agreement. "These long snow treks can get awfully uncomfortable, sir."

Now thoroughly exasperated, Jack sighed, seemingly giving up. "Fine. But we are _not_ discussing this any further, do you all understand?"

They were all too busy changing their socks to answer him.

With his feet happily ensconced in golden wool, Daniel leaned back for a moment to rest, overtly pleased with himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam trying to choose between a purple pair of socks and a green pair – having already dismissed a yellow pair as apparently being too light-weight.

That was when Daniel knew that he wasn't going to leave this alone. Feeling particularly impish, he grinned. "So Jack, it occurs to me that while we are all lucky enough to have some of these mysteriously appearing socks of indeterminate origin, Sam seems to be more blessed than the rest of us. How many pairs do you have now, Sam? Four?

"Five," she corrected absently, finally deciding on the green pair and pulling them on.

"Wow, Sam. The sock elves must really like you," Daniel grinned.

"Oh, I don't think it's that, Daniel," Jack practically growled out. "Maybe it's just that her feet are smaller, so she's cheaper to make socks for."

"Because I'm sure the sock elves are very concerned with such financial details," Daniel noted, his voice laced with obvious skepticism.

While Sam and Teal'c had both wisely remained out of the conversation for the last little while (instead seemingly having an unusual amount of trouble tying their boots), Jack had obviously had enough. "Daniel?" he asked, annoyed.

"Yes, Jack?"

Jack's grin was wide and, under the circumstances, unexpected. "Put a sock in it."

--

More than a little confused over how a harmless exploratory mission on an uninhabited planet that the Goa'uld didn't even know about had led to the mess in front of him, George Hammond stared up the ramp at his flagship team. "Does someone care to explain this?"

After a silent moment, presumably waiting for her commanding officer to respond, Major Carter finally chimed in. This was wise, considering Jack seemed too busy glowering at the rest of his team to even notice that George had asked a question. "We had some trouble with the indigenous life forms on P4X-187."

George frowned. "I thought this planet was uninhabited?"

"By people, certainly sir. But there was some particularly…unique…wildlife."

"Unique?"

"By unique, I think Sam means disgusting," Dr. Jackson chimed in, his voice laden with revulsion. "There were bugs. Big bugs."

"Big?!" Colonel O'Neill finally broke in. "They were HUGE! They were the Godzillas of space roaches. With florescent pink spots."

Confused, General Hammond turned to Dr. Jackson. "What do florescent spots have to do with the insect's size?"

"Nothing, sir. They just really did have florescent pink spots," Daniel was kind enough to clarify.

"Ah." George had to admit, even if only to himself, that the image painted by those words was hardly a pleasant one. Still, it didn't explain… "Okay, so there were bugs. But how did you all end up…well, covered in them?"

Gingerly picking her way down the ramp, Major Carter winced a bit, rubbing some of the hot pink slime off of her neck. "They were attracted to us, sir. We were forced to defend ourselves."

"Actually, Major Carter, that statement is incorrect," Teal'c intoned. "The bugs were not attracted to us collectively. Merely to O'Neill."

Which would explain why Jack seemed to have about three times more gunk on him than anyone else. "Lucky me," he muttered.

"Any idea why that was the case?" General Hammond asked, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile.

"Pardon me, General, but if I knew why, don't you think I would've _stopped_ it?" Jack snapped.

As usual, his tone was tip-toeing on the line between sarcasm and insubordination. But considering the current circumstances, George let it slide. "I see. So, these bugs were swarming Colonel O'Neill. And then…?"

"Despite our best efforts, they would not retreat, General Hammond. I was forced to take action," Teal'c reported mildly.

And that, right there, was the sticking point, because George couldn't for the life of him figure out how it had been done. "How, exactly?"

He was pretty certain that by this time, Major Carter and Dr. Jackson were both struggling not to giggle maniacally. Meanwhile, Colonel O'Neill's glower became even darker, if that was possible. Only Teal'c, steady as ever, remained unaffected.

"Considering their proximity to O'Neill, I did not think a gun was an effective method of removal, and my staff weapon lacked the necessary precision. As such, I was forced to appropriate O'Neill's knitting needles to effectively remove the creatures."

"My brand new, double-pointed size seven bamboo needles!" O'Neill groused. "Which are now completely covered in…I don't even want to know what!"

George was too stunned to do much of anything but gape at his front line team.

"I offered to cleanse the needles for you, O'Neill," Teal'c pointed out. "You did not accept."

Because George was a professional, he did not laugh when Colonel O'Neill's response to this was a frustrated flailing of his arms. But General Hammond did have to admit that he barely managed to curb the impulse.

"Well, of course not! I can't use them now! That stuff was…sticky and pink and stringy and there's no guarantee it all would have washed off, you know. The next time I used those needles, I would be running the risk of embedding my project with the remnants of alien goo."

If George wasn't mistaken, Jack had actually physically shuddered with that last thought.

It was all too much. He had to get them out of here. Fast.

"Okay, well, if that's all, SG-1, I release you to the capable hands of Dr. Frasier. Make sure your blood work comes back clean before any of you leave base. Dismissed!"

His short bark startled them all into moving more quickly than usual (which of course, had been its precise purpose), and when George finally looked up from his intense study of the floor, they were gone.

That was when he finally, _finally_ allowed himself to release the shouts of laughter that he had been holding back.

--

It was several hours before O'Neill was finally released from Dr. Fraiser's tests and studies, and Teal'c had opted to stay near him – for the frazzled nurses' sake, if for no other reason. As such, Teal'c had only just showered the excess bug residue off and was now comfortably waiting in the locker room for O'Neill to finish.

Which, considering the way that the pink substance had gelled and then hardened since their arrival back on Earth, was taking a bit longer than usual. As a particularly emphatic curse rang out from the direction of the showers, Teal'c couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Are you well, O'Neill?" he asked loudly enough to be heard over the running water.

"Depends on what you mean!" O'Neill called back. "I'm getting skinned alive trying to get this stuff off."

"It was a little uncomfortable," Teal'c allowed, though really, he hadn't thought the sensation unpleasant enough to warrant such vehement exclamation.

"A _little_? This stuff is pulling out my hair by the roots! Any suggestions?"

Well, that explained the discrepancy in their experiences – body hair removal was one thing that Teal'c didn't really have to concern himself with. "I would suggest that you wash faster, O'Neill."

Exasperation laced O'Neill's voice as it bounced back to Teal'c ears. "Thanks, buddy. That's real helpful."

Teal'c was distracted from answering right away by a movement on the other side of the room and the rush of cold air that came as the door to the hall cracked open. He was surprised to see Major Carter peer around the side of the door – not only because she normally avoided the team locker room when she knew her male teammates were occupying it, but because he had assumed she had left the SGC hours ago. She had been the least exposed to the alien substance and the first to be examined in the infirmary and consequently, the first cleared.

Nevertheless, here she was, tentatively slipping into the room with a silent wave and smile in his direction. One hand came to her mouth in a signal Teal'c recognized as her desire for him to remain silent about her arrival, and he nodded in agreement.

As he watched, Major Carter silently crept across the room toward O'Neill's locker, beginning to fiddle with the lock mechanism. Of course, that was right when the water in the next room shut off, signaling O'Neill's eminent entrance into the main room. Major Carter shot Teal'c a slightly panicked, pleading look, and because she was his teammate – and really, it must be admitted, because he was curious about her actions – Teal'c attempted to aid her efforts by stalling O'Neill.

"You are welcome," he belatedly called to O'Neill in the other room.

A heavy sigh could be heard even at this distance – exactly the response Teal'c had been expecting. "Really, T. It's been years now. It's about time you caught on to my charming but sarcastic sense of humor."

"My apologies, O'Neill. I shall endeavor to alter my responses to your commentary in the future."

At O'Neill's locker, Major Carter finally managed to open the combination lock, swinging the cubicle open with a triumphant grin sent in Teal'c's direction. Moving as quickly as possible without making any undue noise, she reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out…a large ball of yarn. Yarn that he could not help but notice was a very similar shade to the alien substance they had all just finished washing away.

"Teal'c. You just did it _again_," O'Neill scolded.

The ball was placed front and center in O'Neill's locker, where it could not possibly be missed, and the door shut again silently, as though nothing had ever happened. Mouthing a silent "Thank you" in Teal'c direction, she began to creep out of the room as silently as she had entered it.

He bowed toward her, deeply amused by her actions. "Did I?"

In a feat of perfect timing, Major Carter managed to shut the door to the locker room just as O'Neill crossed the threshold between the showers and the locker room. "T…are you _messing _with me?" he asked.

"Of course not, O'Neill," Teal'c replied dryly.

--

Sam hung up her phone with a sigh, looking around at her living room with a distinct sense of frustration. It had been a hard mission – not horrible or painful or anything, just one of those stupid days where nothing had seemed to go right. It was a trek through a bog, and then her equipment had failed when they finally got to the supposed naquadah deposit, she had twisted her ankle on the way back to the gate, and to top it all off, she was pretty sure she was going through a serious case of PMS.

All she had wanted for the evening was a long, hot bath, followed by a night of mindless indulging in the latest trashy romance novel she had borrowed from Janet and a big glass of wine.

Instead, the Colonel had just called to inform her that her teammates were coming over with pizza and movies. Really, it was sweet. It was just…not what she had wanted.

Well, at least she had already gotten her bath. Moving more quickly than she would have liked, she limped into her bedroom and pulled on some ratty Academy sweats – if they thought she was going to dress up for this, they were insane. Almost without thinking, she threw on a pair of blue socks too – the big, thick, super soft ones she had found in her locker after…God, she didn't even remember anymore.

She finished with just enough time to pad to the front door and pull it open before they could pound on the door, having seen the lights from the Colonel's truck. "Hey," she greeted, maybe a little less warmly than usual.

"Hi, Sam!" Daniel greeted her enthusiastically. "We're here!"

She raised an eyebrow, looking at Teal'c and the Colonel. "You've gotten him drunk _already_?"

"Not drunk. Tipsy, maybe," Colonel O'Neill corrected. "Not my fault."

"Right," she said sarcastically as she stepped aside to let them in. "Because Teal'c is such a rabble-rouser."

Teal'c's response was to blink, which almost made her smile. Almost.

Colonel O'Neill didn't even have the grace to look guilty as he shut the door behind them. "Yeah, well…" he trailed off, glancing just about everywhere if it meant avoiding her gaze. Which somehow meant that his eyes found – and stayed on – her feet. "You're wearing socks," he noted, a strange tone in his voice.

Sam glanced down at her feet, wiggling her toes and then regretting the whimsical movement when a lance of irritation shot up her right leg. "Yeah. I always wear…socks…after lousy days."

Before she had time to be embarrassed by this revelation, she caught sight of his grin, a crooked but pleased expression that lingered in his eyes longer than he allowed it to stay on his face. "Yeah?"

And with that look in his eyes, she suddenly felt less annoyed by them, less tired, and even a little less sore. "Yeah."

For a moment they just gazed at each other, long and silent and surprisingly, simply, happy. "We have beer," the Colonel finally volunteered, breaking the silence.

It wasn't a big glass of wine.

But it would do.


	17. Stitch n' Bitch

Stitches: Stitch n' Bitch

Author: Both of us

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Upgrades_.

Author's Note: Although a very fluffy episode, really if you think about it, there had to be some post-mission upset, because…well, dude! Force field! Yelling! Angsty looks! Instead of actually_ being_ angsty, which we decided would be too much work, we decided to present you with The Yarn Shop crew's take on it all.

--

"You," Frances started bluntly from her corner stool, "are completely pathetic."

Andrew just continued staring out the window, smiling sheepishly. "Don't I know it."

"The guy practically screams 'straight as an arrow', y'know." Frances calmly threaded a trailing edge of yarn onto a needle and wove it into her new scarf.

"Undeniably," Andrew agreed mournfully.

"And he's at least fifteen years older than you," Kate pointed out, fingers flying at their usual frenetic pace.

"Also true," Andrew allowed.

"And he's in love," Sue murmured, setting down a plate of brownies.

At that, Andrew clutched his chest dramatically. "Ow. That one hurt."

"The truth does, dear," Sue said unrepentantly. Andrew just heaved a heavy sigh by way of reply, gaining him looks of exasperation, annoyance, and sympathy all at the same time.

"Sorry, Andrew." Frances shot him a half-smile and pulled out a fresh skein of black from her bag.

"...do you actually use any other colors?" Kate commented, eying the yarn.

"I like black," Frances replied, unperturbed. "It's practical."

"It's a little early nineties, though," Andrew remarked. "The whole goth movement in general is really past its prime."

Frances raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Goth will never die."

Sue, bless her little hippie throwback soul, looked confused. "I thought death was the whole point?"

Frances laughed and pulled out a skein of white. "I was thinking of adding in a little skull-and-crossbones."

"Goth pirate?" Andrew chuckled. "Way to start a new movement there."

She glared at him. "Hey. I think out of all of us, I've been the least prone to wanting to stomp on you and your Mr. Moon Eyes routine lately. No mocking allowed."

"Point taken," Andrew agreed lightly. "I'm sure it'll be very...cutting edge."

"That sounded like mocking," she said warningly.

"I don't think you're leaving her in stitches, Andrew," Kate muttered.

There was a sudden pause.

"Did Kate just-" Andrew began, feeling slightly disgruntled.

"Yeah." Frances looked awed. "Kate made a joke. Not a good joke, but-"

"It's progress," Sue said tolerantly, picking up her own project -- an intricate piece of lacework that left them all agape whenever they looked at it too closely. "Now if only we could get her to gain ten pounds."

Kate glared. "Are you trying to drive me to a new hobby? Is that it?"

"Oh, you know you love....hey! Hey! He's here!" Andrew said suddenly, standing up in excitement before gathering himself and sitting down...only to stand again, fidgeting.

Frances let out a sudden, suspicious coughing fit, earning her a quick, murderous glare from Andrew.

Still, it couldn't be denied that they all peered out the window, however surreptitiously. "Oh, Cassandra is with him," Sue noted, eyeing the plate in the center of the work table with distress. "I'm not sure I made enough brownies."

"Sue, if we ate even half of those-"

The end of the objection was abruptly cut off, however, as the front bell rang, officially announcing the arrival of Jack and Cassie. Andrew, still feeling awkward and jumpy (no matter how many times the girls pointed out his crush was futile) finally sat back down, but was the first to break the silence. "Hi there."

Cassie grinned at them sitting around the round table. "Wow. You guys totally never leave, do you?"

"Not if we can avoid it," Frances said dryly.

"They like to screen my prospective customers and scare away the sane ones," Sue answered dryly.

Jack half-smiled at this, though the expression was smaller and tighter than usual. "No worries here, then."

Cassie rolled her eyes, flouncing across the room and sitting down with them. "You'll have to excuse him. He's in a mood." She eyed the brownies for all of two seconds before turning her big brown eyes on hapless Sue. "Sue, could I..?"

"Always, dear," Sue assured her, though the young girl had grabbed two before the sentence had really fully formed. Sue, for her part, looked at Jack in sudden concern. "Bad day?"

He shrugged, browsing around the shop aimlessly. "Bad week."

Mouth full of chocolate, Cassie tried to speak, then though better of it and swallowed first. "There was a close call at work."

"Cassie!" Jack chided.

She glared at him defiantly. "What? Nothing classified about that."

Sue paled slightly. "Did you...lose someone?"

This time, his wry smile was a little warmer, maybe at her obvious concern, and he squeezed the older woman's shoulders slightly. "No, nothing like that. Just a close call. I can't really go into it."

Really, Andrew reflected, he should be more evolved than to find the whole 'classified' thing sexy. Unfortunately, he totally wasn't. "But you're all right?"

"Yeah. We're all okay," Jack replied with a sigh, dropping into a nearby chair.

"All?" Frances asked perceptively.

"Sam was there," Cassie informed them. "She was the close call."

Andrew literally felt his stomach drop at her explanation. So, Jack was all in a tizzy because Sam had been in danger? Well. That was just...depressing.

"Cassie!" Jack snapped.

Cassie, in typical teenager fashion, shrugged. "Why did you_ think_ I dragged you here, Jack? You've been impossible all week. You won't talk to me or Daniel or Teal'c or, God forbid, Sam. So you're going to talk to them."

Jack let out a sigh and shot Sue a 'see what I have to put up with?' look. "I'm sure they have plenty of other things to worry about, kid."

"I have this crazy habit of including friends in things I worry about, Jack," Sue answered.

"Besides, you're the most interesting thing that happens around here," Andrew admitted shamelessly. "Without you two, we'd just bicker each other to death."

"I..." Jack looked at them both for a long moment. "I'm...oddly touched."

Andrew, naturally flirtatious, had to literally bite his tongue - hard - to curb the offer to touch him in as many ways as he wanted. "So, dish," he finally managed to choke out.

"We...had an accident with some...new equipment that my...team and I were testing," Jack said warily. "Carter and I were there when it...malfunctioned."

"Like I said, it was a_ very_ close call," Cassie summed up.

Jack eyed her. "Why is Carter even telling you this stuff?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'd rather know. After everything, it's just...easier to know than to constantly be playing fill-in-the-blank."

Maybe, Andrew thought idly, their cryptic natures were a part of their charm.

"So, Sam is safe?" Frances asked.

"Yeah," Jack confirmed grimly. "I just...didn't like her coming that close."

"Well, no one likes to see a...friend get hurt," Kate said.

Jack shot her a mildly suspicious look. "Sam's a damn good officer. We'd all be sorry to lose her."

She nodded, looking back down to her knitting. "Not to mention the legal ramifications. Death can be extremely inconvenient."

"In more ways than one, I would think," Andrew added exasperatedly.

Jack paused for a moment, clearly trying to figure out if they were serious. "Yes...because one always worries more about the red tape."

"You'll have to ignore Kate. She's part android is all," Frances grinned from her corner. For some reason, this joke seemed particularly funny to Jack, who coughed to hide a grin and muttered something that sounded like kumbaya under his breath.

"Hey!" Kate protested, actually annoyed enough to pause her knitting for a few seconds.

Sue reached over to pat Kate on the hand. "You're a lawyer, dear. You must admit that there are disturbing similarities."

Kate made a face. "Oh, you're all hysterical. Really."

"We know," Andrew laughed before turning back to their visitors. "So, you had a close call. But everyone's fine. No harm, no foul. ...Right?"

"Yeah," Jack murmured, a far-away look on his face. "We're all good."

For her part, Cassie rolled her eyes. "See, he says that. And then he...mopes."

Frances, not bothering to look up this time, replied, "Sounds familiar."

It was official. Andrew hated them all. The second Jack and Cassie left, he was confiscating Kate's laptop to search for a new job.

Or check his email. Whichever.

Jack looked over at Frances, mustering up a wan smile. "That's an unusual color choice for you."

She nodded neutrally. "It's recently been called to my attention that I've been in a bit of a rut. So I'm branching out." As Andrew watched, Frances sized up Jack, and it reminded Andrew that though she was young and crazy and sort of scary, she was actually a pretty smart kid. "Were you looking for something in particular today or are you really being forced to shop against your will?"

Andrew thought about pointing out that she was currently doing what was supposed to be his job, but thought better of it. For one, it would sound petulant. And really, it probably wasn't the _best_ tact to take with regards to job security.

"The kid here," Jack gestured at Cassie, "reminded me that her mom's birthday is coming up and that she likes cardigans."

The kid in question rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I found a lovely pattern about a month back," Sue said with a warm smile. "You do know how to cable, right?"

Finally, a touch of the humor they were used to seeing in Jack's eyes returned, though the cause of it was anyone's guess. "Oh, _theoretically_," he drawled.

"Theoretically meaning 'I've tried it' or 'I saw it in a book once'?" Sue asked, smiling.

"Errr....I know there are contraptions that look like safety pins involved?"

"I see I have my work cut out for me."

From her chair, Cassie leaned forward to grab another brownie. "Go on and get yourself some schooling, Jack. I'll be waiting right here with the chocolate when you're finished."

"Cute, kid." Jack reached over and tousled her hair.

She just waved him away tolerantly, waiting for Jack and Sue to get lost amidst the needle display across the store before turning back to the rest of them. "Thanks, guys."

"He, uh, really cares about Sam, doesn't he?" Frances asked, seeming to suddenly become fascinated by her knitting.

Cassie fidgeted in her seat and sighed. "Yes. Well...I mean...I don't know. I try to stay out of it, because they're the only family I've got and the last thing they need is me being all...whatever. But from things I've overheard or my mom's let slip or I've just noticed, it's...complicated."

Looking at her, Andrew felt compelled to hug the young girl. So he did. "You're a pretty unique kid, you know?"

She smiled widely, seeming amused at his compliment. "You might even say I'm almost alien."


	18. All Tangled Up

Stitches: All Tangled Up

Author: Christi, Katrina, and Ryuu

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Divide and Conquer_

Author's Note: So, here's the thing. I know D & C has the whole za'tarc confession thing, yadayadayada, but honestly, what strikes me the most is the untimely death of poor Martouf. And just an episode before, it was Sha'nauc. And really, it just seems like it could be a good time for some Jaffa/astrophysicist bonding.

--

What, exactly, one was supposed to expect when a large alien asked you to 'accompany him through the forest of Colorado', Sam wasn't sure. As it turned out, companionable silence suited perfectly. The steady rhythm of breaths and footfalls became a welcome distraction from the heaviness upon her after the week's events. It was definitely needed. Who'd have thought Teal'c was an emotional genius?

There was so much rattling around inside of her head she didn't even know where they would start if they were to talk. She trusted Teal'c to her very core as a confidant. The emotional and physical safety he provided was uncanny, given their fragile position in the universe. She instantly smiled at the realization before the warm feelings gave way to sorrow. She did trust Teal'c. That must explain why his decision to leave when Sha'nauc had come seemed like such a betrayal.

Not that he hadn't had a right, she acknowledged. They'd been to many a planet where the culture seemed unusual and foreign to her. Was that what Earth felt like to him? It made sense that Teal'c would long for some kind of familiarity – after all, he visibly brightened when one of his own came through the Stargate. He had such an innocent manner while discovering Earth and its many different customs and traditions. Sometimes she forgot just how much life he had lived before he chose to fight with and for Earth instead of against it. No wonder he'd kept to himself so much since the whole Sha'nauc and Tanith escapade. Especially with the constant, life sustaining reminder inside of his own abdomen. Talk about cruel irony.

She closed her eyes for just a moment and Martouf's contorted face flashed before her. Yes, cruel irony.

But this wasn't about her. It was about Teal'c. As hard as it was to admit, thinking about Teal'c's situation made the current events in her own life…what? Easier to ignore while the pain and guilt were so fresh? Sam bit her lip. No. She wouldn't go there. Teal'c. This was about Teal'c's pain. Teal'c's need. Teal'c's need to feel needed. He had said he would go where he was most needed. Was it selfish of her to believe that he was needed here? Probably. Teal'c was capable of making a difference no matter where he was. But that didn't stop her from trying to figure out ways she could convince him that he was needed here.

She glanced at her teammate; she could feel words building in her throat but she felt almost nervous to break the silence they had created. Well, he was still here. Still with them. He had chosen to stay.

"Did anyone ever thank you?" The words surprised her. Had she meant to ask that?

Their stride remained unbroken as he tilted his head, "As of late, I have done nothing worthy of thanks."

She frowned at him, "I know a few people who might disagree with you on that one."

He simply bowed his head in response.

Right, she reminded herself. He was a man of few words, and many a head nod.

"You know, Colonel O'Neill was convinced the two of you had some kind of history." Once again, her words surprised her. This time, however, they were met with complete silence. "But being that you are with Drey'auc, I was sure he was just seeing something he wanted to see. Plus Daniel pretty much shot dating possibilities down with the reminder of her being a temple priestess."

As she blinked, she once again saw Martouf's smiling face. It was important that she know if there was a history there – if only because it meant sharing her own raw and muddled pain.

"Sha'nauc was indeed an important part of my past."

"Before you and Drey'auc then." She wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

"For the most part. Our involvement was short lived, but highly passionate."

"Ah, so an old girlfriend revisited after years of separation?"

"After a lifetime."

His words penetrated. This time, foreign yet eerily familiar memories of Martouf arose. His eyes. His passion. Their lifetime. She'd almost become accustomed to memories that were not her own occasionally flitting to the surface. They came at the weirdest times too: while checking the perimeter on a mission, when the wind caused the flowers to bend a certain direction, if her foot fell in just the right way, at a random word. How did it make sense that she felt a lifetime of feelings for a man she hardly knew as herself? She'd never know now, would she?

The silence fell again and they continued their mid-day hike.

"It's weird, isn't it?" She smiled up at him, to his raised eyebrow, "To be out in the middle of the woods with no mission or goal to complete; no one to run from. We've been plenty of places that look just like this. I always thought it was kind of funny, to have pieces of home so far away."

A beat of silence, and then, "Have we not both been running from those who haunt us?"

The light attempt at friendly conversation dissolved and suddenly it clicked. Despite his stoic appearance, she could have sworn there had been a miniscule amount of desperation in his eyes when he had asked for her company. Now she understood. He was hurting too, and he didn't want to do it alone.

She was strangely touched by his choice to seek her out. Although she loved SG-1 more than just about anything, being the only woman on the team could be difficult. It seemed like whenever something went wrong, the guys always had each other to turn to. Sometimes, she felt like she had to choose between stripping herself of all her femininity to be one of the boys, or live in precarious danger of being 'the girl'.

It was easy to forget that after four years, these three men loved her enough to just want Sam.

Slowly, she let out a breath, staring out over the vista. "So, you've lived over a hundred years. Tell me – does it ever get easier?"

"Does what get easier, Major Carter?"

"Death."

The word hung heavy between them, encompassing all of their recent loss and sorrow. Teal'c considered her question for a moment before answering in heavy, measured tones. "It is something I have encountered often. In fact, it is something I have caused often. Yet I find myself surprised and encompassed at the pain that accompanies its advent."

Sam gave a bitter grin and nudged him, "Indeed."

His smile was fleeting at best, but it was there, so she was going to count it as a win. "I just don't know sometimes, Teal'c. I've been doing this what, four years? And already, there's a part of me that's just so. Damn. Tired. How do you keep doing this, year after year, with the weight of it all just…sitting there on top of you?"

After all, simple physics told her that eventually, she'd crush under the pressure. Everything had its breaking point.

When he finally spoke, his words seemed to come out of left field. "There is a Jaffa legend that I often reflect upon - the story of two warriors in the service of Ra, Makel and Ol'an."

Sam blinked at that, trying to imagine Jaffa legends. She just hoped that they were a bit more translatable than Jaffa jokes. But Teal'c was still talking, so she resolved to process that bit of information later.

"Although not truly brothers, they shared a bond of mutual trust and love that soon made them the finest warriors among Ra's forces. When one went into battle, he went secure in the knowledge that his shield brother would be at his back, watching over him and helping him to accomplish feats that no single warrior could attain."

"Jaffa fight in teams?" Sam questioned as they began to walk once again, back down the path.

"It is unusual," Teal'c acknowledged. "Which is why it was no great surprise when they were separated, each sent to a lead Ra's forces on different planets. It was a tragedy, but not a surprise."

The sinking sensation in Sam's stomach only intensified as she listened. "I'm not going to like what happens next, am I?"

"Ol'an fell in battle," Teal'c confirmed.

"Yeah, that figures," Sam muttered under her breath. "This is a real pick me up story, isn't it?"

Teal'c glanced at her while carefully stepping over a log that had fallen across the path. "TI cannot change the way the story unfolds."

The Jaffa storytelling tradition was sounding a little too close to real life for Sam's taste, but she didn't say that. "Sorry, Teal'c. Please go on."

"Makel was devastated by the loss of his friend, retreating from the world for many days in his , he returned to his command, performing his duties without joy or care and never speaking of Ol'an."

"I can understand that," Sam acknowledged softly. It sometimes seemed that her life was becoming nothing more than a series of things she didn't talk about, in hopes that they would just disappear altogether.

"As can I. But you must understand while Makel still fought bravely, he was no longer the great warrior he had long been famed for being. Eventually, the opponent he faced outmatched him."

"I swear Teal'c, if he dies too, you're not allowed to tell me anymore stories."

"He did not die. At the last moment, when death seemed inescapable, Makel allowed himself to remember Ol'an. With the memory, he was able to summon the strength to defeat his foes and once again rise as the greatest warrior of his time."

As they emerged from the woods and headed toward the parked car, Sam mulled over this story. What was the point, exactly? That repressing your emotions made you weaker? That grief was a part of life? That the people you loved were always with you? "Teal'c, I'm not sure I understand what it means."

"It means what it means, Major Carter."

Well, that cleared things right up. "Teal'c, do all Jaffa have the whole inscrutable thing down to a science, or is it just you?"

Somehow, Teal'c expression managed to be both innocent and devious at the same time – without really changing much at all. "I do not know to what you are referring."

The only thing Sam could do was laugh, and so she did – a loud, happy chuckle that snapped in the air, taking some small measure of her sorrow with it. Unlocking the car doors, she easily slid into the driver's seat, rolling her shoulders experimentally. There was a loss of tension there; not a huge difference, but a definite difference none the less. A step closer to feeling better.

"Back to the mountain then?" she tossed her companion's way, turning the key and shifting into gear.

"I am actually quite hungry, Major Carter. Would it be possible to acquire some sustenance before returning to the SGC?"

"Food. Mmm. I could definitely eat." She nodded, pulling onto the road back to Colorado Springs.

"Music?" she ventured, pressing the stereo's power button. Talk radio filled the silence causing her to wrinkle her nose; maybe not the best noise companion at the moment. She flipped through her presets, passing commercials, the beginnings of an obvious disco tune, more commercials, a bubbly classical tune, and finally landing on a country station that wasn't completely offensive. Teal'c liked country, didn't he?

Her hand moved back to the steering wheel, the music filling up the car. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Teal'c shifted, reached his hand out, and flipped back through the presets, landing in the middle of the intro to Funkytown.

"This is a most enjoyable composition of sounds."

Her head snapped in his direction, a look of confused horror settling into her features. Teal'c liked disco?

All things considered, she thought that the Colonel's knitting habit was easier to swallow


	19. Twisted Ribs

Stitches: Twisted Ribs

Author: Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Beneath the Surface_

Author's Note: Dealing with Jonah and Thera – Stitches style.

--

Across the checkout counter of The Yarn Shop, Andrew was eyeing Jack with a definite look of distaste on his face. "_What_?" Jack finally asked, his already frayed nerves too short to handle the younger man's quips right now.

"Nothing!" Andrew rushed to assure him, scanning skein after skein of the yarn Jack had just selected. "It's just…are you _sure_ you want to buy this yarn? I mean…what are you going to make with it?"

Jack eyed the pile of soft, wool-and-polyester blend and shrugged. "I was thinking a sweater." It was about time he made something for himself, after all.

Never mind that it was May. A sweater sounded like exactly the sort of project he needed right now to distract him from…things. "A cabled one. With long sleeves," Jack added, thinking that the additional work would probably end up being a good idea.

Andrew, bagging the skeins, still looked skeptical. "And you're sure that's a good idea?"

"Why not? I've made sweaters before. I've cabled before. What's the problem?"

The cashier still had that look on his face – almost like he had smelled something particularly unpleasant. "Sweetie, I just don't think this is exactly your color."

Jack looked back down at the yarn. "First of all, don't call me sweetie. Secondly, I like this color. It's…earthy."

At this revelation, Andrew's face became even more dejected. "Sure, if 'earthy' is military code for puke orange." Seeing Jack's unmoved expression, Andrew sighed, handing Jack the now-full bag. "You really are a lost cause, aren't you?"

Without his permission, Jack's lips twisted into an empty half-smile. "You have no idea."

--

Being on leave right now was just about the last thing Jack wanted. Being on leave for a whole week meant that he was trapped with a head still fuzzy, two sets of imperfect memories, and way too much time to think…thoughts about those memories.

Jack knew all too well that thinking thoughts had never led any place good.

Because he wasn't allowed to work, Jack was left with Plan B – distraction. Instead of focusing on all the things he definitely didn't want to be thinking about, he could focus on knitting and purling and shaping with _The Simpsons_ playing in the background, trying to remember why it was funny. (He knew it _was_ funny. He just didn't know _why_.)

The pattern he settled on ended up having wide ribs instead of cables, long vertical stripes that seemed to go on forever and were easy enough to do. As he repeated the pattern over and over and over again over the next few days, Jack did not think.

When casting on, he did not think about how weird it was that he had spent most of his time on that damn ice planet covered in sweat.

When knitting the body, he did not think about how empty his house seemed after sleeping in a room of squeaky cots and whirring machinery and the occasional snore.

When working on the first sleeve, he did not think about what the hell he was supposed to call Thera-Sam-Carter-Major now that he knew she wasn't going to be cuddled up against him anymore. And he certainly didn't think about how much he was going to miss that.

When attaching the second sleeve, he never once thought about how really, Jonah's life had had a lot going for it that Jack's definitely lacked.

Five and a half days of frenetically paced knitting later, Jack had remembered what was funny about his favorite TV show, had definitely _not_ thought about any of the things that he shouldn't have, and he had a new sweater. Studying it through bleary eyes, Jack gave in to a whim and slipped it over his head.

He couldn't help but be pleased as it settled into place, noting that the sleeves were the perfect length, the torso fit just right, and the yarn he had chosen was soft and warm without being too heavy. Wearing it was instantly familiar and strangely soothing, and Jack lay back with a beer and the remote and slipped into the first deep sleep he had gotten since they had come back to Earth.

--

It was several hours later when he finally jolted awake, immediately aware of someone banging rather emphatically on his front door. Rolling off the couch, Jack tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes with one hand while swinging open his front door with the other, annoyed quip at the ready.

Of course, it died the second he saw a shocked Carter standing on his front stoop, gawking at him. She was paler than usual, and with the short, choppy hair (Jonah remembered cutting it, trying to work around the engine grease she had somehow managed to tangle in her blonde locks) and her too wide eyes, she seemed more surprised to see him than he did her. Which was odd, seeing as she was the one who had rung his doorbell.

"You okay, Carter?" he asked.

"I…" she trailed off, looking him in the eye and then fidgeting away and taking a moment to gather herself before looking back at him. "Yes, sir. Sorry. I'm fine. You just…looked like…I thought…never mind."

Confused, Jack glanced down at himself, rumpled from a night on the couch and wearing his new sweater.

And it wasn't until that moment, seeing it as she must have, that Jack realized his new sweater was made of orange yarn the exact same color that Jonah and Thera's tunics had been.

So much for all that thinking he _hadn't_ done.

Feeling slightly mortified by the distinctly weird situation, Jack tried to look back at her, but found that it was still awkward and almost painful to gaze right at her. After a try or two, he finally managed to aim a sheepish smile somewhere in the vicinity of her nose. "Carter, I am so sorry. I didn't even realize…."

She shrugged, obviously still shaken. "It's fine. You didn't know I would be dropping by. Because I wouldn't, you know, normally. Except that you weren't answering your phone and General Hammond has been trying to get a hold of us. There's some kind of situation at the base."

"I figured it must be something like that," Jack rushed to agree. "Just let me grab my shoes..?"

She nodded in a rush and he turned away, breathing out a long, slow stream of air and trying to figure out if it would be better to try and figure this whole mess out, or if jumping off the roof might be easier.

Right now, he was leaning toward the latter.

--

Twelve hours later, the (supposed) crisis was over and Jack found himself back in the team locker room, running a hand down the simple ribs of his new sweater thoughtfully.

Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but he couldn't get the look on Carter's face when he had answered the door out of his mind. Regret and strain and joy all in one ruthlessly suppressed package – everything he had been trying so hard to avoid thinking about.

It was supposed to be the first big project he had ever knit for himself. Instead, when he left the locker room, the sweater was folded carefully at the bottom of Carter's locker, a simple note attached.

_It'll look better on you anyway. _

_~Jonah_


	20. A Bit of Lint

Title: A Bit of Lint

Author: Katrina and Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Tangent_

Disclaimer: Well, duh.

Summary: Cold people need sweaters. Sweaters are made of yarn. Yarn leaves lint.

Author's Note: We're playing a little with style in this one. 'Cuz we can.

--

Daniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, placing an artifact on his desk. Picking up his pen to jot down some notes, he glanced at the clock. Damn, was it lunchtime already? Just goes to show that time flies when you're studying alien pottery. Quickly finishing his thoughts, he stood and stretched his neck. Maybe he'd stop by the infirmary to visit Jack while he was at it. Lunchtime was usually the smartest time to visit him as he was usually slightly less irritable after being fed.

"Jack." Daniel greeted after stepping through the doorway.

"Daniel."

"How you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Bored."

Daniel cringed. Not a good sign. "Yeah."

"Hey, do you have a lint roller handy?"

"A lint roller?"

"Yes. Fly paper that rolls."

"Not on me, no."

"But on base?"

"Jack, what's going on?"

"Fuzz."

"Fuzz?"

"It's everywhere."

"What?"

"Driving me nuts."

Daniel sighed and stepped backwards. "I'm not having this conversation anymore."

Jack adjusted himself, looking to the left and the right before leaning slightly in Daniel's direction, "Underneath my hospital gown, I keep finding orange fuzz."

"So the meds Doctor Fraiser has you on, those are treating you well."

"Daniel!" Jack barked, "Get me a damn lint roller or get out."

"Well," Daniel half-scoffed, "It's good to know you're feeling better."

"Look, I'm serious." Jack grumbled, "I'm stuck here, bored out of my mind, wasting hours of my life. And I keep finding random bits of orange fuzz."

"Orange fuzz?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, I'll see what I can find, okay?" If for no other reason than it would get him out of this room and away from this conversation.

"Thank you."

--

Sometimes Daniel didn't know why he was so easily talked into participating in Jack's antics. His life was weird enough without traipsing around a secret military facility, searching for a lint roller. Luckily, he knew exactly where to go to perform his first lint roller acquisition. Daniel smiled to himself as he exited the elevator. Orange fuzz, indeed.

"Hey, Daniel," Sam greeted, as he walked into her lab.

"Hey, Sam," Daniel replied innocently. He couldn't wait to have this conversation, "So, do you have a lint roller?"

Sam's head popped up from her work, a frown on her face. "Um, I don't think so."

As expected. "All right, thanks."

"Out of curiosity, why?"

Shrugging innocuously, Daniel waved his hand, "Something Jack asked me to find for him."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, "A lint roller? That's…different."

"Something about finding orange fuzz and it making him crazy…er." Wait for it….

"Oh." She paused, wrinkling her nose before saying more. "Nope." Another pause. "No lint roller." Yet another pause, during which she tried to look wide-eyed and innocent. Of course, Sam really couldn't pull that sort of look off. She was more the outwit, outsmart, and outgun type. "What about the laundry room in the private quarters? Have you been there yet?"

Daniel smirked, and headed for the doorway, "Right, that makes sense. I'll head there next. Thanks."

--

Daniel held the lint roller limply, just out of Jacks' reach, amused at the way Jacks' face had lit up when his eyes had landed on the desired object.

"Does it itch or something? I don't see any orange. You make it sound like it's everywhere."

"No." Jack shook his head, holding his hand out, "It's just annoying."

"Right."

"And I've been told that orange is not my color."

Daniel shifted his weight, not dignifying that with a response as he handed Jack the roller.

"And Daniel, remind me to write a memo about new hypothermia blankets."

"What? Hypothermia blankets?"

"Hey, this fuzz is ridiculous. I don't think the next guy to nearly freeze his ass off should have to deal with it."

"Jack. The hypothermia blankets aren't fuzzy. Or orange."

"What?"

Daniel nodded slowly, enjoying the build up.

"Well then, what in the…"

"Colonel, really!" Janet interjected as her head appeared, poking around the privacy curtain. "Why does it matter? You were stripped down and re-clothed and covered."

"With something orange and fuzzy? Since when does an Al Kesh come complete with orange, fuzzy clothes?"

Janet scoffed and held up a sweater. An orange sweater. "It doesn't. I'm pretty sure Sam grabbed whatever she could think of when they got to you."

"Wait a minute. Carter put me in the orange sweater? THAT orange sweater?"

Daniel sighed. He should have known that this game would get old before Jack caught on. "It's not like the Tok'ra would keep them on hand, so I'd say it's a safe bet, Jack."

"Carter wouldn't do that!"

"Yeah, because the Tok'ra are prone to dressing in fuzzy attire." Weird, occasionally shiny attire, yes. Fuzzy? No.

"Besides, I look terrible in orange."

"So you mentioned." Daniel muttered.

"Oh, get out of here."

"I'll be back."

"I'm sure you will." Daniel turned to leave, but was almost immediately stopped. "Hey, Daniel?"

He didn't bother to turn around all the way, simply responding with a slightly bored "Mmmhmm?"

"If I…gave you something, could you slip it in Carter's locker for me?"

"Oh, no."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, I already found the lint roller. I'm not your errand boy! Second? We're not in elementary school. If you want to thank Sam for saving your ass, yet again, just be a grown up and say it, would you? This whole sock subtext has got to be getting expensive. Not to mention ridiculous."

Jack blinked a couple times before looking down and picking at the hospital blanket.

Daniel raised his eyebrows at Jack's sudden silence and headed for the door, "Yeah. That's what I thought. Good night, Jack."

--

Hours later, Daniel rounded the door to Doctor Janet Fraiser's office, dinner in tow. "I bring Chinese food," Daniel proclaimed.

The doctor looked considerably more frazzled than usual. "Bless you, Daniel."

"I aim to please," he retorted, passing out chopsticks and divvying up the sweet and sour chicken. "How's life in the Infirmary?"

"The same as it always is when Jack O'Neill is in residence – strained."

"Understandable. He's like a two year old."

"Daniel!" Janet chided with a grin. "That's just insulting. He's at least a nine-year-old-boy."

"Fair point," Daniel conceded with a smile. "What's his problem, anyway? None of us like being in here, but after awhile you become sort of…accustomed."

"You would know," Janet teased around a mouth full of egg roll.

Daniel's smile widened, "Well, we could trade jobs if you'd like. You could see how the other side feels."

"Oh no," Janet shook her chopsticks teasingly, gesturing toward herself, "I prefer to be on this side of the needle, thank you very much."

Daniel's eyebrows rose, "Even with the strained company?"

"Well, save the colonel, it's actually nice to get to see some of the faces I don't normally run into otherwise."

"Yeah, not too many lines to see how the infirmary's holding up if someone's not broken or fighting off death are there?"

A pained expression rippled through Janet's eyes briefly before she shook her head and smiled, "How are you doing, Daniel?"

Daniel shrugged and bobbed his head as he finished chewing, "Apart from the lint roller mission from crazy-land, today has been quite productive. The artifacts we brought back are ama—" Daniel stopped mid sentence, his head cocked to the side "Was that --"

"-- laughing?" Janet finished for him.

Sure enough, a loud, healthy chuckle that Daniel had only heard a handful of times was emanating from the next room, followed by another giggling voice hushing the first.

The two doctors shared a look before simultaneously creeping to the door of Janet's office, peering around the edge to see Jack grinning up at Sam, who was perched half on a chair next to his bed and half actually on it, trying to quiet his mirth with her own giggles.

"I didn't know he could do that," Janet said wonderingly.

"It's rare. Very rare," Daniel retorted as they watched their friends playing and laughing. It was so unusual, and so nice to see them both so damn happy that Daniel could only feel the knot of dread in his stomach. "This is going to be a huge mess, isn't it?"

"Oh, definitely."

He sighed. "Well, damn."


	21. The Knitty Gritty Truth Week One

Title: The Knitty Gritty Truth

Author: Christi and Katrina

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: After _The Light_.

Summary: Three weeks is more than enough time to get them in some serious trouble.

Author's Notes: Seriously, WHY isn't there more _Light _fic? I mean, it's basically a fic writer's cliché dream: they are trapped on distant planet together for a significant period of time. With a mood-altering alien influence. COME ON, people!

Also, I would like to say that before we started writing this, we had no idea that it was really the heart of Stitches. But as it turns out, it kind of is. Which would be why we go from an average of maybe four pages a fic to this insanely long opus.

--

**Day One**

Jack grunted, picking up a tub of supplies from in front of the Stargate. Hammond had sent more than enough through to last them for the first week - food, extra clothes, bedding, hygiene supplies, and a few boxes filled with recreational items to pass the time. They were set to get one more shipment that evening before the four of them would be on their own until the next check in.

He and Daniel worked smoothly, designating different corners of the room for different types of supplies.

"So what's the plan as far as sleeping arrangements go?" Daniel asked, picking up a storage tub off of the gate ramp.

Jack adjusted his own tub and followed Daniel to the temporary food storage corner. "Well, I figure we can hunker down here or where Loren has been staying for the time being."

"You realize, as you earlier mentioned, that this is a palace. I'm sure we could find actual sleeping quarters."

"I know," Jack said as he set his tub down, "but we probably should stick close to the crazy light room for a few days before we venture out and about. Carter and I didn't get too far down the beach before withdrawal kicked in."

Daniel set his tub down and headed back to continue clearing room for the next supply transport. "But after a few days we can break up the slumber party? I mean, short of the 'gate, doesn't seem like anyone is around to bother us."

Before Jack could answer Sam and Loren walked around the corner, "We just did another sweep of the areas closest to the light room. I didn't find anything that looked like a bedroom, Daniel. And no signs of any inhabitation either, sir. However, I did find a close substitute for a kitchen. And a bathroom."

Daniel sighed, wiping his brow. "Running water?"

Sam grinned, "Shower and everything seems to be in working order."

"Oh, thank God."

"You know, you two take the fun out of everything," Jack lightly growled. "Who needs a shower when you've got the ocean?"

Sam and Daniel exchanged looks.

"Technically, we don't even know if the water on this planet is safe, sir." Sam offered.

"And we camp on a regular basis, Jack." Daniel reminded Jack. "Well, given that we're not taken prisoner or captured or run off or…" Daniel stopped, and looked up at his two friends eyeing him. "What?"

"Are you trying to jinx us?" Jack scolded, his eyes widening as he tilted his head towards Loren, "He's kidding."

Daniel merely waved Jack away and moved to grab more supplies.

"Three weeks in an alien palace. You must be excited to check out the sights, huh?" Sam asked, falling into place behind Daniel.

"Well, the good news is I have three weeks to explore and collect as much as I possibly can." Daniel grunted, lifting a rather large tub. "However, the bad news is I only have three weeks to explore and collect--"

"—as much as you possibly can," Sam finished for him. Daniel flashed her a grin.

"I'll let you know if I find anything that looks technical and complicated."

"What about you, sir, any plans yet?"

"It's an impromptu vacation, Carter," Jack scowled. "I'm not ruining this by making plans. I figure I'll just go where the wind takes me."

"The walls are actually quite sturdy," Loren jumped in. "Not too much wind gets in here."

Jack opened his mouth and then shut it while Sam tried to stop the smile that itched at the corner of her mouth.

"Huh, good point," Jack recovered, heading to an area full of boxes. He pushed a few aside before leaning over a particular box, and then opening it to reveal a collection of sporting equipment. Picking up a ball, he walked towards the boy. "You know how to play catch, Loren?"

**Day Two**

Now that the basics were covered – power, plumbing, and the like – Sam felt more free to spend some time on fun things. And what could be more fun than studying the intricacies of wiring and technology that made up the Light machine?

…Yes, it was possible that she enjoyed her work a little too much sometimes. Someday, she might feel the need to work on that. For now, though, she was perfectly content being elbow-deep in alien tech.

"Well, _that_ didn't take long," said an amused voice from behind her.

She should've known he would show up sooner or later. While this palace by the sea came equipped with many niceties, a lab wherein he could bug her when he was bored was sadly lacking. But apparently, he had decided that the actual setting was not a necessity.

Somewhere deep down, she suspected that she should probably be a lot more annoyed by his behavior.

Instead, she just grinned. "It _was_ fairly predictable, wasn't it?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he assured her. "Just be careful with that thing. Going off the deep end and drowning myself in that ocean out there? Not on my list of things to do today."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," she assured him.

"You do that," he affirmed, leaning against the wall and allowing the conversation to lapse. She turned back to her work, but was interrupted a short time later when he began pounding out a rhythmic beat against the walls.

Now it was her turn to be amused. "Sir?"

"Yeah?"

"Something on your mind?"

"Not really, no," he replied, watching her and then looking at the mess of exposed wires she had been examining. "Is it really so fascinating?"

"Not really, no," she parroted back at him, giggling at the surprised look he shot her. "Sometimes, alien tech is a wealth of information that can be applied to all sorts of useful things. Other times…"

"It's just alien drugs?"

She grinned. "Pretty much, sir."

He waved at the mess. "Well then, why bother?"

"There's nothing else to do, now is there?" she pointed out.

Jack groaned. "Don't remind me."

"Bored, huh?"

"Well, Daniel has Loren with him, which means playing catch is out for now. I'm starting to think I might need Hammond to ship a tv through next contact."

She tried to imagine how that request would go over and had to laugh. "Oh, I'm sure he'll love that."

"Don't think he'll go for it?"

"Somehow, I think your myriad of reasons why life is meaningless without _The Simpsons _will fall on deaf ears when it comes to General Hammond." At his disappointed look, she tried to think of something comforting. "You could always ask for a book."

He eyed her with a slightly wrinkled nose. "I'm more of a magazine guy."

"Sir, I've been to your house. You have shelves of books."

"Never opened one, I swear."

She rolled her eyes. "Right," she allowed, letting the subject go. "Come on, I'm done here. Let's go save Loren from Daniel's geeked out bliss."

"You are a great humanitarian, Carter," the Colonel proclaimed with a smile.

"Or I just have a really good sense of self-preservation."

"Or that."

**Day Three**

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't that Jack lacked an attention span. He could deal with the occasional mind-numbing monotony as well as the next Armed Forces grunt.

No, what got to him is know that the monotony wouldn't end for at least another eighteen days. _That_ was what had him crawling out of his skin.

Three days and he was already running out of things to do. While Daniel was off exploring the lower levels of the palace to his heart's content, Jack had run out of interest after the second and third hallways that looked just like every other hallway. And he'd already taught Loren how to play catch with a football. And a baseball. And a Frisbee.

He sighed and moved to grab his pack. He hadn't wanted to give in so quickly, but with Loren busy showing Daniel around and Carter off doing...something, Jack didn't see much alternative. Besides, he had a sweater he was working on for Cassie just waiting for attention. And given the situation, it looked like there was going to be a lot of down time while under this alien head-juice device. He looked around warily and then froze as his last thought hit him. A smile crossed his features as he now eagerly opened his pack and settled into a comfortable position.

"So, tomorrow you'll show me some of the rest of this place?" Jack could hear Daniel ask who he assumed was Loren.

"Oh sure," Loren eagerly responded.

As they neared Jack simply continued to loop his yarn.

"I had fun today." Daniel offered to the boy who rightly seemed overly starved for attention.

"It was good," Loren agreed.

The two entered into Jack's line of sight.

"Hey!" Loren's face lit up, "Oh, what's that?" He enquired, rushing over to examine the purple yarn and Jack's working hands.

"We call it knitting," Daniel answered, moving to set his pack down on his bedding.

"Now, Daniel," Jack admonished, a satisfied grin across his face as his hands continued to work, "we all know that you see things when you're high on alien drugs."

**Day Four**

Carter firmly believed that Daniel was going to get shot. By the Colonel. And that it would probably be sooner rather than later. She sighed as she followed the two bickering men to the kitchen-like room she'd discovered their first day here. In her arms was a crate full of every cooking and baking ingredient she could imagine and some she'd never heard of. An identical crate rested in the Colonel and Daniel's arms as they made their way down a hallway.

Sometimes, she wondered if Daniel drove Jack crazy on purpose. It hadn't even been four days and yet, the Colonel was already developing that twitchy sort of energy – part "I've been stuck in one place too long" and part "I've been in Daniel's company consistently for too long."

They had come a long way in four years, but no amount of brotherly affection could remedy the occasional basic personality clash.

"I'm just saying," Daniel was waving his hands now that his crate was resting on a counter, "It's been four days, can't we start exploring farther out?"

"Daniel, Daniel, Daniel," Jack set his crate down and began removing items, "I've explored as much as I want to at this point. If you think you can handle it, go nuts."

"And if I find a bedroom?"

"You'll have found a bedroom."

"And if I decided to sleep in said bedroom?"

"You want to sleep in a dead guy's bed?"

Daniel tensed. "It's a palace. With potential palatial beds!"

"You know," O'Neill leaned Carter's direction, "I've never heard him complain about camping before now. You give a guy a vacation in a palace and suddenly, all he wants is a five star room."

"You've been hovering over us for the past three days! We're fine. I'm fine." Daniel looked at Sam imploringly. "We're fine right?"

Carter's mouth opened and closed as the two men stared at her intently, "You know," she began, setting her own crate down, "I never did finish looking at the cooling unit over here. I think I'm going to go grab some tools…."

Daniel gave a tight smile in Jack's direction. "See, we're fine."

"Oh yeah, you're running off the only person who can fix up this alien-tech-kitchen. A bed, oh, a bed you're worried about. But food, non perishable food?" He turned to the ingredients.

"Oh, _I'm_ running her off, am I?" Daniel practically stomped his foot, "If you'd just say yes, I'd be out of your hair and you two could happily mix and mingle."

Naturally, at that moment an out of breath Loren stumbled into the kitchen. "I heard yelling. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Jack answered tersely, glancing at Daniel.

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, "I'll give you one more day of being paranoid," he growled before vacating the tension-filled room.

Sam smiled at Loren from the corner she had retreated to and shrugged, "We call it cabin fever. Don't worry about it, it'll pass."

"It's Daniel, of course it'll pass," Jack agreed as he turned to grab a can out of his crate. He held out the can to Loren, "Campbell's chicken noodle soup. You'll love this stuff."

Sam sighed. Daniel was definitely going to get shot.

Instead of dwelling on the men and their juvenile spats, she turned her attention to the technology in the room – always a welcome distraction. What appeared to be an alien oven had been a surprisingly quick fix so she'd moved onto the refrigerator unit. It wasn't nearly as complicated as she'd worried it would be. With a few more pokes, prods, twists, and turns she'd hopefully have a place to safely store anything the Colonel might make.

Which kind of boggled her. The colonel cooking. She'd been all set to eat MRE's the entirety of their stay. But suddenly he was asking her if she thought she might be able to get the units in the kitchen working. When she'd offered to take a look at it, he was quickly barking orders for Daniel to help him grab crates and move food items.

She turned one last thing before scooting away and replacing the panel she'd removed, "I think we're set, sir."

"Really?" He came over to examine the now humming unit.

"Yeah, from what I can gather it didn't have a cooling core, it was just a matter of redirecting the energy from the…"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted, "you made it work. That's all I need to know."

"Yes, sir."

"We are so having lasagna!"

"Lasagna?"

"And meatloaf."

She cocked her head to the side, amused. "Okay."

"Maybe some steak and eggs…" he continued before turning towards her, "You cook, Carter?"

"Not often. Or well."

He smiled. "No matter. You know what's best of all?" She couldn't help smiling back at him as his eyebrows jumped, "Beer."

She raised an eyebrow. "You really think Hammond is going to let you have beer?" she paused before adding a belated, "sir."

"Hammond, no. But I have my ways." He didn't even try to look sheepish.

She took a deep breath, studying him. He was in a considerably better mood now. "Sir," she began, grabbing his full attention with her tone, "he's not entirely off base, you know." Her declaration caused his brows to furrow, but she continued on. "Daniel…he's right."

His eyes narrowed, "Is he?"

"A few hundred yards in each direction is going to drive him nuts. And if this morning is any indication, you won't be far behind him."

"Well, what do you suppose I do about it, Major?"

Her jaw tightened, but she refused to back down. "Test it yourself. Set a perimeter for him each day until you don't need to."

He eyed her, scratching aimlessly on his arm, "I'll think about it."

"Thank you, sir." She let out a puff of air and turned to put her tools away. That had gone much better than she'd anticipated.

"So Carter, you wanna go for a walk or something?" he asked with a familiar, crooked grin.

She spun to look at him incredulously. "You didn't mull that over long."

He shrugged. "Well, you're right – better me than Daniel. And company might keep me from, y'know, throwing myself into the ocean or something."

How do you turn down an offer like that? "Sounds good."

--

Well, it _had_ sounded good. In theory.

Like most things involving Jack O'Neill, the reality was quite a different thing. Because as Sam was starting to realize, walking alone with her CO on an alien beach had been a fatally flawed plan to start with.

Beaches were places for friends and family and…well, dates. Not bosses. Keeping the Colonel strictly regulated to the CO portion of her brain required enough effort without placing him against the enticing backdrop of soothing ocean waves and salty wind tossing his hair about in the breeze.

Not to mention the lack of conversation. Because really, what was there to say?

"At least the weather's not so bad here," he finally offered in place of the silence.

"Yeah," she agreed with false enthusiasm.

Interesting – Sam now knew for certain that weather made a lousy conversation topic no matter what planet you were on.

As it turned out, there really _were_ some things she'd rather not know.

**Day Five**

Gazing at the gargantuan bed before him, piled high with entirely too many pillows, Jack just shook his head.

"Annoyed that Daniel was right?" Carter asked from the doorway, an amused undercurrent lacing her tone.

"Well, does it have to happen so damn often?" Jack retorted, spinning to look at her. "Between the two of you, it's enough to give a guy a complex."

She just smiled rather than needling him further, which of course forced him to smile back. "If you hurry up and strip the bedding, I'll wash it with mine," she offered.

"You're washing the bedding?"

The look she shot him this time was distinctly less pleasant than her previous expression. "You're not? It's been sitting in this abandoned castle for God only knows how long, gathering…whatever."

He turned back to the bed and eyed the pile of pillows with that new and disturbing thought front in his mind. "That hadn't occurred to me." Now, he wasn't sure he'd ever forget it. "Hey Carter?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we should check all the mattresses, too."

"Oh, definitely," she agreed fervently.

Because working with Carter was easy and familiar, they breezed through the work together. Efficient hands stripped beds and flipped mattresses and he even refrained from throwing one of the extraneous pillows at her – though curbing the impulse actually required a lot of effort.

By the time they had dumped all of the linens in the giant pot she had found somewhere and filled with boiling water, he was feeling a distinct need to get out for awhile – to separate himself from all things that were Carter and bed in the same sentence.

That sentence never ended well.

"Walk?" he suggested hopefully.

Sure, yesterday had been weird and awkward. But in his mind, Carter with a side of weird and awkward was yards better than no Carter at all. And just because he needed to not gaze at her over an armful of bed sheets, didn't mean he couldn't spend time with her.

"Sure," she agreed after a moment's hesitation.

--

Jack wasn't sure which was worse, talking about weather or not talking at all. Normally, he was a man comfortable with silence – he even preferred it most of the time. But with Carter, he didn't want silence. He wanted…well, a score of things he wasn't supposed to. Seeing as he couldn't have those, he didn't think it was too much to ask for a short conversation. They managed all right inside – not great, but all right. Why was a walk on the beach so much harder?

"It's windier today," Carter said abruptly, apparently unable to stand the awkward silence any longer.

And now, they were back to the weather. Why had he thought it was a good topic yesterday? "Yeah. Not bad, though."

"No," she agreed. "There are definitely worse places to be stranded for a few weeks."

"Like the planet with the tar pits," he offered.

"Or the one with the giant bugs."

He raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

She laughed, "Good point."

Studying her face out of the corner of his eye, Jack knew that he was right about this – there had to be a way to talk to her, really talk, without bringing in work to grease the wheels. And he would figure it out. If nothing else, the law of averages had to be on his side by now.

**Day Six**

"Hey Sam, can I show you something?"

Sam looked up from her breakfast. The colonel had made omelets and her fork was half way to her mouth when Daniel, a plate of his own balanced on his knees, had spoken up.

She nodded, chewing quickly before answering, "After we finish up here I'm all yours."

Daniel took a bite and glanced at Loren who sat across from them intently staring at his own untouched plate, "You might want to try it before Jack comes in here."

"It's yellow."

Sam frowned. "You've never had eggs?"

"I don't remember eating anything yellow. Brown and gray, mostly."

Daniel and Sam exchanged a glance.

"My parents left rooms full of packaged food. Just add water."

Sam waved her fork at Loren's plate, "It may be yellow, but it tastes worlds better than ready-made meals." She took another bite and chewed carefully before swallowing, "You should at least try it."

"Try what?" O'Neill came into the room, a plate in one hand, and pulled up a crate next to Loren. "Something wrong with breakfast?" He asked, eyeing Loren's full plate.

Loren's posture straightened, "No, it's good. I'm sure it's good anyway. Major Carter and Daniel were just telling me that it's good…" He trailed off nervously and picked up his fork, "I was just waiting for you."

"You shouldn't have. Now yours is gonna be cold." Sam watched the colonel carefully as he switched Loren's plate for his own. "It's better hot," he offered at Loren's surprised look.

Loren brows knit together as he moved to taste the omelet before him.

"Sam, that thing?" Sam blinked and jerked her head ever so slightly at Daniel's interruption.

"Right." She stood, watching as Loren chewed carefully before he smiled up at Jack. She turned, barely shaking her head. This was a whole can of worms and she could see it slowly begin expanding from the inside out.

"It _is_ good," she heard the boy affirm as she dropped her paper plate into the makeshift garbage can and followed Daniel out of the room.

"What's up?"

Daniel looked over his shoulder. "Oh, I found something yesterday I wanted to show you."

"How much did you explore yesterday, Daniel?"

"Well, I showed you the bedrooms, and the luxury bathroom. But I wanted to save this."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Be careful Daniel. As much as you had a legitimate point in not wanting to remain cooped up, Colonel O'Neill has valid concern, too."

Daniel let out a long breath before admitting, "I know. But I was to the point where I preferred the possible suicidal ideation to any more time stuck in such a small area."

"It's just his way."

"Yeah, well, that's no excuse."

"No, it's not," she sighed. "But it's still his way. And you, better than anyone, know why."

"Well, it's not an issue anymore, is it? We came to an agreement and are fine."

She shot him a disapproving look. "I don't mind the end result, Daniel. Just…next time, maybe go about getting what you want a little better. Give him some slack."

Daniel eyed her suspiciously for a moment before asking, "Okay, what's going on?"

She met his stare, point blank. "I'm worried about him and Loren."

Daniel sobered instantly, confirming her fears weren't unfounded. "Yeah. Me too."

"But he'll be fine," she tried to assure herself, stopping at a doorway with Daniel. "This the place?"

Daniel watched her carefully before nodding and offering a smile, "I'd tell you to close your eyes first, but that's a bit cliché."

Sam smiled back at him and followed him into the room.

--

Sam sat surrounded by stacks of books, papers, and journals of various sizes. Daniel's room had turned out to be a study full of page after page of scientific, historic, and cultural research and information the previous dwellers had left there. While Daniel had grabbed a stack of books and taken them to his claimed quarters, she'd been so overwhelmed she'd simply grabbed a stool and a table and began discovering what she could.

"Pssst."

She jerked her head up from the book she had been absorbed in to see Jack poking his head around the doorway of the room. "Huh?"

He smiled, apparently amused at her reaction. "Hey, Carter. Take a breath."

"But-" she hesitated, glancing down at the tomes surrounding her.

"Come on, Carter. Let's get some fresh air."

"Yes, sir. I just need to finish up this last section," she said, flipping forward a few pages.

"Finish up later. You've been cooped up in here for hours. Time for a walk."

She frowned at him before standing, stretching her shoulders and back before she nodded. "After you, sir."

He grinned as he led the way to the beach.

"So…" he drawled out agonizingly slowly after they'd walked in awkward silence.

"So," she agreed.

Well, that had been pointless. Or so she thought until quite out of the blue, Jack exclaimed, "Alien drugs!"

"What?" Maybe she hadn't heard him right.

"We're on alien drugs!"

"Well, I wouldn't really put it like that, sir. It's not like we're voluntarily shooting up."

"Even better!" he insisted.

She was officially lost. "Okay…."

"I mean, we're trapped on this alien pleasure planet while our minds are being pumped full of these happy, mind-altering drugs, through absolutely no fault of our own!"

"Right…" Sam wasn't used to feeling like she was missing something. It was a disconcerting sensation and she didn't much care for it.

"And if those same mind-altering alien drugs cause us to do…" at this, Sam raised an eyebrow. His grin was immediate and unrepentant. "Okay, or _say_ things that we might not normally do or say, well, who could blame us?"

The full implication of this actually made Sam stop in her tracks, staring at in him in growing bewilderment. This was…well, it was probably very wrong and incredibly stupid. But it was also irresistible. This was a man that she had spent four years tip-toeing around, afraid of doing or saying too much.

The idea that she could talk to him, just _talk_, without worrying about crossing some invisible line was…it was all she could have asked for.

"No one. No one could blame us," she agreed slowly. "After all, it's the drugs."

Their eyes met and the gaze held as they shuffled down the walk, basking in this new idea of freedom. "So, Carter…" he drawled finally.

"Yes, sir?"

"…What's your middle name?"

**Day Seven**

"Good morning, Daniel!"

Jack's downright cheery greeting obviously flustered the archeologist as the younger man rubbed sleep out of his eyes and blinked at Jack. "You're…chipper."

Unwilling to let Daniel's observation dampen his mood, Jack just shrugged. "It's another beautiful day here on P4X-347 and I'm making pancakes."

This idea seemed to cheer Daniel up as well. "In that case, I withdraw my complaint."

"Duly noted," Jack replied as he slid a few hot pancakes straight onto a plate. "Now eat up."

Happily, Daniel seemed more than eager to comply, and the next few minutes were spent in blissful silence. Seeing as he was with Daniel, however, it didn't last long.

"So listen…" Daniel started around a mouth full of syrup and cake, "I'm sorry about the last few days."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I just…this whole situation is a bit…and we're finding so much to look at and learn…plus it's just…well, anyway, I'm sorry."

"Okay," Jack replied, wanting this conversation to end. At first, it seemed like it was going to, but then once again, Daniel couldn't let it go.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Like what?" Jack asked.

"I don't know…maybe that you're sorry, too?"

"But I wasn't wrong," Jack pointed out. At Daniel's glare, he just shrugged. "Protecting you and Carter…that's my job, Daniel. It may not be fun, but sometimes, you just have to sit back and let me do it."

"I thought we were a team, Jack."

"We are. But we all have parts to play. Teal'c is on his jaffa quest. You do…research-y things. Carter gets our asses out of trouble. And I try to stop us from ever getting there in the first place."

"You can be…overcautious, though," Daniel pointed out.

Jack washed off the pan he had been using, careful to avoid eye contact. "I'm not sure that there is such a thing."

The silence that followed this observation was more serious than Jack wanted to deal with so he merely shrugged. "Just eat your breakfast, Daniel, and we'll forget all about it."

After all, he had more important things to do today. Like planning dinner. And playing with Loren.

And, of course, taking a walk with Carter.

--

"We're really playing the favorites game?" he asked skeptically.

"Hey, I know it sounds silly, but…I just don't think we actually know that much about each other outside of work."

"Carter, that's ridiculous."

"It's really not. Now. Favorite color."

"Peridot." She shot him a surprised look.

"What, you thought it'd be Air Force Blue?"

She shrugged and he smirked. "Favorite movie?" he asked.

"Mmm, I'm not sure. Not _Star Wars_?"

He thought about how many times they'd been forced to watch it with Teal'c and smiled. "Fair enough."

"Favorite food? No, wait, let me guess – Guinness."

"And you say we don't know anything about one another."

"No, I said not enough. Not really."

"Carter…" he stalled, looking at her. "I know you. You drink your coffee black. You hum under your breath when you work even though you can't carry a tune to save your life. You're happiest when you're elbow deep in a machine – I'm not even sure it matters what kind of machine, really."

"Those are all work things," she maintained stubbornly.

"Okay…" he drawled, thinking. "You still have nightmares about Jolinar and it freaks you out that you can sense Teal'c coming before you see him. You secretly want long hair, but think it would be too inconvenient in the field. You…" his eyes dropped to her neck and he smiled slyly, "have a very sensitive spot on your neck."

To his surprise, she didn't drop his gaze at the oblique reference, holding her ground despite the faint blush on her cheeks. "And you figured that out halfway through our first year on SG-1 and have used it to your advantage ever since," she said coolly. "But did you know that until I was seven, I wanted to be a ballerina? Or that when I cook, I crank up music and dance around like an idiot in my kitchen? Or that sometimes, I still write my mom letters, even though she'll never read them?"

He studied her in silence for a minute before turning away and continuing their walk. "No, I didn't."

"You know Major Carter, maybe better than anyone, and that's fine. But this…haven't you ever wondered if you'd like Sam as much as you do Major Carter?"

"Not even once," he assured her. "Troubling third person usage aside. Look, I realize that our situation is…unique. And I have no problem answering as many of these random questions as you want to ask. But Carter…I just like you. All of you. No compartmentalization needed."

Next to him, she stopped walking abruptly, and when he looked back, she was gazing at him with a brilliant smile. "How do you always say things like that without even meaning to?"

"The truth will usually do it," he pointed out with a smile before they began walking once again. "And Carter?"

"Hmm?"

"The kitchen thing? Very, very hot."

Her laugh was bright and happy. "I can't imagine why."

"Um, there's food and there's you dancing in your underwear. How could anything about that be more perfect?"

"But I don't do it in my…"

"Shhh, Carter," he hushed her. "Don't ruin it."


	22. The Knitty Gritty Truth Week Two

**Day Eight**

"All right, campers!" Jack called from the hallway, "Put the books away and get your butts to the gate pronto."

Sam rubbed her eyes and stood quickly. She'd taken a page from Daniel's book and had been reading one of the journals from the study in a more comfortable location. She marked her place and headed toward their boisterous leader.

On her way, she met Daniel in a hallway. "What's going on?"

"Was about to ask you the same thing."

Instinctually, they both moved a bit quicker until they came to find Loren sitting on a crate and Jack standing in the middle of the room.

"Sir?"

"Jack?"

He met their curious stares with amusement. "So, it's been a week now," the colonel began, "and we've got power, running water, food, and a working way to cook food. The two of you," he glared at Daniel and Sam, "have been ignoring the rest of the world with those damn books for long enough."

"Jack," Daniel interrupted sharply.

"No, Daniel. Let me finish. Today," Jack proclaimed, "is to be a day off. No studying, no solo-exploring, no translating, or repairing anything. Hammond shipped us some steaks and Teal'c snuck me a cooler full of foamy refreshments this morning. I intend for all of us to spend a day wasting our brain cells."

Sam let out a silent prayer of thanks. It might be a weird way to go about it, but she could respect his brilliant idea to cure boredom and loneliness.

Daniel looked a little miffed though.

"And I have a couple other things for you, too," the colonel added proudly, motioning for them to come closer.

Two boxes rested side by side, one with "Major Carter" written in black marker and one marked "Daniel Jackson."

"What's this?" Sam asked as she crouched down in front of the box with her name on it.

"Oh, just a little something from Teal'c."

--

What Jack had neglected to mention was that along with Hammond's weekly shipment, Teal'c had managed to ship them everything you needed for an impromptu beach party, down to bathing suits and a grill. Currently, Sam and Daniel lounged in lawn chairs while Jack and Loren were played catch.

Daniel took a sip of beer and gave a slight giggle. "I can't believe he got this stuff through the gate."

Sam snuggled into the Air Force Sweatshirt that had been one of the items in her box. "I know," she agreed, clinking her beer with Daniel's before taking a long gulp. "Can't say I'm about to complain, though."

Daniel nodded and adjusted his sunglasses. "Didn't realize it was sunny out today."

Sam grinned, "Me neither."

"Hey, you two!" Jack called. "Get over here so I can teach Loren about touchdowns."

Sam and Daniel shared a look. "This out to be fun," Daniel mock-enthused.

"Let Daniel finish his beer and then ask again, sir," Carter called back.

Jack cocked his head to the side before nodding and turning back to Loren, motioning for him to go deep.

"Sam…" Daniel whined.

"Oh, come on, Daniel," she nudged him and raised her bottle once again. "Drink up and you won't care. Besides, it's for Loren."

"Which means it's also for Jack."

Sam choked on her beer. "What?"

Daniel adjusted his sunglasses again. "Jack wants to show Loren how to score a touchdown. He wants to show off for him."

Sam emptied her bottle and stood. "Oh. Right."

Daniel scrunched up his face. "You're really going to play along with this macho-jock thing Jack's got going on?"

Carter grinned down at him. "You afraid you're going to lose?"

"Oh, I know I'll lose."

"Come on, Daniel," she encouraged, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. "You can be on my team. We'll knock 'em dead. The colonel won't know what hit him."

Daniel's look of disdain made her laugh. "Finish your beer and lighten up," she called, heading down towards O'Neill and the grinning boy.

**Day Nine**

Jack ambled along the beach, his hand occasionally brushing Sam's as their strides effortlessly matched up. It was strange how their agreement to talk about anything made even the silences easier. They were pretty far down the beach already, and yet they had been fine walking quietly - simply – together.

"Yesterday was great, you know."

He glanced at her with a crooked grin. "Glad you enjoyed it. A little surprised, but glad."

"Why surprised?"

"Oh, you just don't really seem like the day off type is all," Jack said off-handedly. "It's like pulling teeth to get you to take a whole weekend off at home."

Her steps were slower now next to him as she absorbed his words. "That's really what you think of me? That I'm some kind of…boring, workaholic, egghead?"

"Uh…well…" he stammered, trying to figure out how they had stumbled onto this mess of a topic.

"For your information, sir, things at work are different. Usually, there's some piece of technology that the Department of Defense just HAS to have figured out or there's some 'gate emergency that ONLY I can fix or, God forbid, some little alien planet that NEEDS to be saved…I don't work all the time because I want to. It's because I HAVE to."

Honestly, he wasn't sure he had realized any of that. In fact, Jack was pretty sure it had never fully occurred to him. "Well, I…."

"And even if I DID want to stay, what's so wrong with that? I like my job. My interests are there, my life is there, my friends are there…."

"You know, we could be your friends outside of work, too," he pointed out.

"No," she said flatly. "You really can't, can you?"

Jack knew that she was right, and yet, it didn't seem to matter. He had experienced his fill of being reamed out over a simple misconception and a situation that couldn't be helped. "That's not my fault! Stop blaming me for this whole mess we're in!"

Carter's eyes widened at his outburst, shock evident as she slickly turned on her heel and began backtracking.

"Don't you walk away from me, Major," Jack roared. "I'm talking to you!"

Carter's footsteps visibly faltered. "Sir, no sir," she answered dutifully, "we walked too far. We need to turn around." At that, she turned to face him. "Now. Sir."

"Maybe you went too far. I'm fine!"

"Sir..." her voice pleaded with him.

He let out a huff of air, blood racing and blazing through is veins. He knew she was right – he could recognize that this whole thing wasn't rational, that it had sprung up out of nowhere. But the headache and the anger made it hard to focus. "You go. I'll catch up."

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his rigid stance and his rapid breathing. Reluctantly she nodded and turned away again, beginning the walk back to safety.

He watched her for a long time before following, trying to blame that all on withdrawal and yet knowing that somewhere in those angry words, there was a tiny bit of truth.

**Day Ten**

All morning she had been dogged by a nasty headache – a leftover from the withdrawal incident yesterday. Or maybe just a reaction to what had been said during it. Either way, it was safe to say that Sam was having a rough time getting going.

She joined everyone for breakfast, but didn't say much and escaped back to her room as soon as possible.

There was something different about the room, that much she knew as soon as she walked in. But it took her a moment to see the hat laying on the bed, knit in a soft blue and perfect for a Colorado winter.

She fingered it for a moment, knowing he meant it as a peace offering. And normally, she might have let it slide.

But they were on alien drugs. Surely, just once, they could resolve things without the aid of knitwear.

At least, she hoped so.

--

Where yesterday, their silence had been easy and sweet, today it felt stifled and filled with tension. It was amazing how a few words said in anger could set you back so much.

"Uh, Sir, about yesterday..." she began tentatively.

"Do you see that rock over there, Carter?"

"Well, I was-what?" The abrupt question took a minute to digest.

"That rock. Don't you think it looks like an elephant?"

Well, no one had ever claimed he was great with confrontation. "...yeah. I guess it does, sir."

No one had ever said she was either. Unless it involved a gun, anyway. So they continued along awkwardly for a moment before Sam managed to screw up her courage. "I don't blame you."

He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "You probably should."

"Bullshit. I'm a big girl. This is just as much my mess as it is yours. And besides, what could we really have done about it?"

He didn't answer because there was no answer to give – if there had been an easy solution to their problem, they would have already taken it. Instead, he changed the subject. "I don't think you're nothing but a workaholic. I know I give you a hard time about it, I just…" he shrugged, seemingly out of words. "I worry is all."

A smile formed on her face before she could consciously stop it. "I know. It's just…you can't routinely ask me to save the planet and then complain when I spend time doing the prep work."

"You need to prep for that?" he sounded honestly surprised.

"I'm not sure if I find your surprise touching or worrisome," she replied frankly.

He shrugged, as though his absolute faith in her was nothing. "It's what you do."

"No pressure or anything," she only half-joked.

"Hey," he said, tone serious. "I didn't mean it that way. We're a team."

She let out a long sigh. "I know." And she did.

"So…we're good?"

It was an imperfect resolution to an imperfect situation. But it was likely the best they were going to get. And when all was said and done, she wasn't sure it mattered anyway. "Always."

**Day Eleven**

"Do you date?"

He winced as soon as the blurted words left his mouth. "You know, I meant to…lead up to that."

A quick glance at her expression revealed amusement instead of anger, which eased his conscious a bit. "I bet," she replied dryly.

However, she didn't answer the question, which only left him imagining things. "Seriously. Do you?"

"Date? As in…?"

"As in dressing up and going to dinner and building a relationship and…" he swallowed, not wanting to finish that thought, "and other stuff."

Her silence seemed interminably long. "You really want to know?"

No. "Yes."

"I…" he screwed up his face despite himself, prepared to visualize lots of Carter getting naked with men who were not him. "…don't."

The unexpected answer took a moment to register, and then once it did, he gawked at her in surprise. "Really?"

She just shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "When would I have the time?" she pointed out. "I guess from your surprise…you do?"

"Do what, date?"

Her glare was a clear enough answer and he just grinned. "God, no, Carter. This may have escaped your notice, but I don't really like people. They tend to bug me more than anything. Give me a Guinness and a team night and I'm overloaded on a social life for a solid month at least. More, if Daniel's being particularly irritating."

"Besides, you always have the occasional alien dalliance to liven things up," she teased him.

"Hey! Those situations were…so very not funny," he protested.

"Oh, I beg to differ. One, at least, was rather hysterical. You know, seeing wedding cake still sends Daniel into uncontrollable fits of giggles?"

"It figures. He has an evil side," Jack acknowledged. "So…one is funny. The other?"

At the mention of Edora and his not-to-secret affair with Laira, she sobered. "Not funny. Understandable. But…not funny."

He could relate. "Kind of how I think about Martouf."

They walked in silence for a bit, digesting all of this new information. Strangely, something about the fact that their only romantic entanglements in the last four years had been unmitigated alien related disasters was distinctly…depressing, and he mumbled something to that affect.

"You know, there's a bright side," she pointed out after a moment.

"And that would be…?" he asked wryly.

Her grin had a devious edge to it. "At least Daniel's got us both beat."

**Day Twelve**

Sam couldn't believe what she was looking at. Before her were three obviously exhausted, yet giddy boys, huddled in some sort of sand castle-esque fort. A fort that was surrounded by holes. The structure, if it could be called that, was enormous, with three walls extending almost five feet into the air. The fourth space for a wall was open and faced the beach, with drift wood extending almost to the lapping waves as a makeshift draw bridge.

As she approached, she watched the three guys slowly moving around, packing sand between the driftwood.

Loren was crouched next to Colonel O'Neill. Every few seconds his head would turn and he'd nod. The looks that accompanied nods to whatever the colonel was saying were pure hero worship.

She grinned as she approached, laughing slightly. "The fort I can understand…but the holes?"

O'Neill glanced up from Loren, shading his eyes from the sun as he look at her. "It's a guy thing, Carter. Sometimes, you just have to dig a hole."

She shook her head. "Or twenty." He grinned at her.

"Permission to enter?" she asked after one more moment of laughter.

Jack nudged Loren, who grinned. "Permission granted, Major Carter," the boy proudly declared.

"Okay," Daniel suddenly announced, sprawling onto his back with a groan. "I'm officially spent."

O'Neill grinned, watching as Carter grabbed a handful of sand and packed it where Loren was directing her. "Wimp."

--

Later, when they were alone, she darted between the holes lightly, making a strange little game of balancing on the uneven sand. He watched her with silent amusement, seeming entirely too satisfied with himself. "How long did it take the three of you to do all this?"

"Ridiculously long. But what else have we got to do?" Jack pointed out. "Besides, Daniel needs to get out more. That boy is creepy pale."

She just shook her head, finally coming to stand next to him and stare at the fort. "You know it'll all just wash away, right?"

Strangely, this didn't seem to bother him. "We'll still have done it. That's really all that matters."

**Day Thirteen**

"You do that a lot," Loren noted from the door.

Jack looked up from his knitting to smile at the kid, gesturing that he could come in. "It's sort of addicting," he explained. "Not in the creepy alien light kind of way, though. Just in a I really like it way."

Loren fingered the material gently. "What do you do with all of the stuff you make?"

"Give it away, mostly."

"And people like it?"

Jack shrugged. "I've never got any complaints. Besides, I guess they know…they know that I'm thinking of them when I do it."

"That_ is_ nice," Loren remarked before moving a little closer, then halting. "Can I watch for awhile?"

His need for simple human contact was so raw and basic that Jack couldn't imagine ever turning him away. "Sure, kid."

Needing no further prompting, Loren climbed onto the couch next to Jack, happily ensconced in the cushions as though watching him knit was the best kind of entertainment.

--

"Is it weird that I've started to debate how weird it would be to cover my entire front yard back home with sand?" he asked.

She laughed, kicking a little of the gritty substance at him. "Just a bit."

He shrugged, fine with that. "Yes, well, I'm not exactly known for my mental stability."

Her only response at first was a rather indelicate snort that amused him. "Please. I know unstable and you don't even come close."

Thinking about her past rather…interesting choices in men, Jack was relieved that she thought so. "Yeah, someday you're going to have to explain that to me."

She shot a glance and a shrug his way. "How do you explain who you're attracted to and why? A psychologist could probably give you all sorts of fascinating reasons why I pick the men I do, but I'm not entirely sure I'd want to know them."

Considering the likely Freudian suspects and how they might apply to him, Jack wasn't at all sure he'd want to know either. "Besides," she continued, "At least they never lasted long. Not like…."

The sentence was left unfinished, but Jack recognized a reference to his ex-wife when he heard one. "Ah. That. Are we…talking about that?"

A bit of sand was kicked first right, then left as she shuffled along. It seemed like he wasn't the only one with a sand preoccupation today. "It wouldn't be the worst idea."

Actually, he was pretty sure it was at least one of the top five, but… "What's there to say? I was married. I loved my wife. But…."

He let the silence between them stretch out until she finally broke it. "But..?"

"Nothing. I just…I don't imagine it's easy, being married to a man who never really lets you in."

"No," she replied so quietly that the waves almost drowned out her response. "I imagine not."

Jack glanced at the gray sky and just wanted this conversation to be over with as quickly as possible. "Trust is…not something I do easily. And having a functional marriage without trust…well, no matter how great the relationship can be in the good times, it doesn't have a base to it. Whenever something bad happened – a long separation, a mission gone bad, Iraq, and then…"

"You had nothing to fall back on," she agreed, staring into the distance. "You trust us, though." You trust _me_, was the unspoken implication.

"With everything," he agreed immediately.

"And that makes it different?" she asked, sounding honestly confused.

He didn't really know how to explain, because he wasn't sure he understood it himself. "I suppose you knowing what it's like – you having been there for most of it. Trusting you as a teammate is a no-brainer. So, in a weird way, our crappy situation with work has made trusting you as a woman I…well, it made it easier."

When she spoke, her voice had a breathless quality to it. "Gone too far?"

"Definitely," he muttered.

Their walk back to the castle was silent.

**Day Fourteen**

"So what is there to do back on your planet?"

Sam looked up from the hole she and Loren had just dug. She'd recruited him to help build a barbeque pit in the sandcastle the guys had all created. It was starting to fall apart, but she wanted to give them one last evening of being kings before it completely disintegrated. "Tons of things. Hasn't the colonel talked to you about it?"

"Well, I mean things to do that don't involve throwing something."

"Ah," she said with a wry smile. "Well, it'll be different, that's for sure. But there's a lot of entertainment. Not to mention people, and school…."

He perked up, handing her a piece of thick wire mesh. "School?"

"Most of the kids on Earth go to school for at least 13 years."

"What do they learn?"

She placed another piece of metal carefully over the pit, "A little bit of everything, really. Math. Writing. Science."

Loren sighed, a supremely tragic expression on his face that only a teenager could manage. "I'll be behind."

"Well, I'm sure that you will get a tutor before you're put into an actual school. There's another little girl – Cassandra – who's like you, adopted from another planet. We got her a special tutor for a year or so before she was put into school."

"And are there a lot of people?"

"Uh, definitely." She looked up at him, trying to figure out how to explain a world of billions to a child who was constantly bewildered by the novelty of a world of four. "Might be a bit of a shock at first. But I promise that you will be able to move at your own pace."

"Yeah," He looked down, his features clouded.

"Nervous, huh?"

"Just a bit."

"Don't worry, I think that's probably normal," she tried to reassure him.

"You think?"

An ironic smile spread across her face. "Honestly, Loren, I don't have a ton of experience with normal."

--

"You like it?" Sam asked a few hours later as Jack gazed at their homemade creation in the sand.

"Like is not a strong enough word. This is sweet." He stepped back, eyeing the pit from several different angles and fingering the wire mesh she had woven with admiration. "Damn, food is going to taste good while this thing lasts. What made you think of it?"

She shrugged, trying not to show how pleased she was. "Boredom, mostly. Not all of us have easily transportable hobbies, you know."

His smirk should have pissed her off. Predictably, it didn't. "Yeah, that must suck for you guys."

"It's tough, but we manage," she intoned with a roll of her eyes.

Finally tearing himself away from his new toy, he walked over to join her a little further down the beach. After a few steps, he gently bumped his shoulder with hers. "Seriously, Carter. Thanks."

Huh. She blinked, digesting the word slowly. They must be coming a long way – she couldn't remember the last time he had actually thanked her verbally. Usually, it was just a positive note on the mission report and a new pair of socks a week later.

She honestly wasn't sure which method she preferred.

"Hey, Carter, you coming?"

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she looked up at the colonel and smiled, falling into step beside him.


	23. The Knitty Gritty Truth Week Three

**Day Fifteen**

"Where's Loren?"

Jack looked up from the crude fire pit that he was cooking steaks on. "Went to grab some barbeque sauce from the cooler."

"Ah." Daniel lowered himself next to Jack and gazed out at the rolling waves. "You two sure have taken to each other."

Jack said nothing.

"That going to be a problem?" Daniel pushed.

Jack squinted and flipped one of the steaks, carefully maintaining a completely neutral expression. "Nope."

"All right," Daniel picked up a handful of sand and let it slip through his fingers before continuing. "And you and Sam?"

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"You two have been disappearing for hours at time these days."

"Your point?"

"You sure you know what you're doing?

"Of course I know what I'm doing," Jack frowned. "I'm barbequing."

"On a home-made pit she made you."

"You were getting to a point?"

"Just don't do anything stupid because you have this alien influence thing on your side."

Jack poked at one of the steaks before replying, trying to put aside his resentment over being questioned at all. "Daniel, I swear on George Burn's bald head that Carter and I aren't _doing_ anything." Daniel let his stare remain until Jack squirmed in spite of himself. "Really."

"You know," Daniel said as he picked up another handful of sand, "I don't so much care if you're doing anything or not. But I do care if you get yourselves in trouble once we get back because of what's going on with you two. And that's going to happen in less than a week, Jack."

"Daniel, I appreciate your concern. But first of all, there's nothing to be concerned about."

"Sure there's not."

Jack continued, his voice straining a bit. "And second of all, it would be none of your business even if there was something going on. Which there's not."

"Just be careful."

"I'm always careful," Jack answered, catching sight of Loren and Carter headed his way. "Always." Even when he desperately didn't want to be.

Daniel looked at the two approaching figures and sighed in defeat. "And Jack?"

"What, Daniel?"

"Don't burn my steak this time."

--

"You're very good with him," she offered.

"Well, after a while, you get the hang of how to best handle Daniel."

Sam nudged his shoulder with hers. "Loren."

"Oh, _right_," Jack feigned.

Sam let his pretense hold for a few seconds before gently pressing forward. "For someone who would have every right not to like kids, you have a history of being great with them."

Jack stared at his hands for a moment, the rhythm of their footfalls matching the rolling waves. She had a knack for bringing up those top five topics he hated, didn't she? "Every moment I get with a new child is like a second chance." He glanced over at her. "Hard to like something with such a harsh reminder attached to it."

She nodded in pained understanding, "You hide it so well." His response was a furrowed brow. "That is," Carter fumbled over the tender area, "I imagine some people might not open themselves up. They might harden themselves, push any reminders away. But you don't. You face it every time, don't you?"

"Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment?"

Sam stopped walking and shook her head, "Does your punishment ever get to end?" Jack froze. "I know it must sound awful, coming from someone who doesn't know how it feels for you. From someone who can distance herself from it because it's not her problem--" she winced. "Wait, that didn't come out right."

"Carter."

"Sir?"

It was Jack's turn to wince. "What are you looking for here?"

Sam looked away and swallowed, "Well it's kind of like a band-aid, isn't it? The quicker it gets out there, the easier it will be to stop it from hindering other…things."

"Like it did with Sara?"

"At the risk of being too honest," her gaze shifted, "I just need to know what, if anything, I need to be prepared for."

Because he had never known how to talk about this without spiraling into a very dark place, Jack was silent for awhile. "I don't know what to tell you," he said finally. "It's been six years and I still…" he trailed off, at a loss. "It'll never be better. Not ever. So you learn to function around it. Or you shoot yourself in the head."

There it was, the raw and hopeless truth. He walked beside her, waiting for condemnation – expecting it.

Instead, he was surprised to feel her hand slip inside his. "Okay," she said softly.

"Okay?" he parroted unbelievingly.

The eyes that met his were wide and unflinching. "Okay," she repeated, and with one word, she was tacitly accepting this horrible part of him – a part he tried to never show anyone.

Quite involuntarily, his hand rose, brushing away stray hair the wind had scattered over cheek. "God, Carter, I…."

But even alien drugs couldn't excuse the end of that sentence, so he just squeezed her hand tightly before stepping back.

**Day Sixteen**

"Okay," she heard Jack's voice softly guide, "you remember how all the pieces can move?"

"I remember," Loren confirmed confidently.

Sam smiled and leaned against the smooth wall to her left.

"So, I made my move," she heard the colonel continue. "Now take your time and study the board."

Although she couldn't see the two, she could imagine their posture, hunched over the small chessboard O'Neill had requested. She continued toward where the two were seated, rounding the hallway entrance to find Jack studying the boy's determined face. Loren held a captured pawn in his hands, twisting it slowly as he carefully focused on the game.

Jack glanced up and saw her in doorway, giving her a soft smile. She met his gaze, offering one in return as she neared them. "Who's winning?"

The boy's body shifted, his posture relaxing slightly. "I think I am." He glanced quickly in the colonel's direction. "I have more of his pieces," he added meekly, holding up the pawn and a knight that had been resting in his lap.

"A worthy opponent then, huh?"

Loren shrugged. "I'm getting better. And he's still letting me win sometimes, I think."

Now it was Jack's turn to shrug. "Sometimes being the key word."

Loren grinned. "It's very interesting. I hardly remember any games from before I got here. And here, well, there was never any time…" he trailed off, letting those memories go before finishing his thought. "But this is very interesting."

Looking down at him, Sam couldn't help but marvel at this boy's inner strength. "Mind if I watch?"

"Oh, please," Loren gestured to an empty crate next to him, "stay." The boy glanced at Jack, "Right, Jack?"

"Of course," the colonel nodded as Loren hesitantly picked up one of his bishops and slid it forward. "Pull up a crate, Carter."

She nodded and lowered herself. "Good move," she offered, leaning toward Loren.

"Hey, now," Jack warned, shaking his hand in her direction, "No helping him kick my butt. That would just be mean."

Carter purposefully straightened, eyes wide in feigned innocence. "Never, sir."

Jack paused and studied her for a moment with narrowed eyes before grumbling and counteracting Loren's move with a knight.

"Can I play the winner?"

"You play?" Loren's eyebrows rose.

Sam smiled. "It's been years, but I did when I was just a little older than you. My father taught me."

"Are you as good as Jack?"

She simply shrugged, grinning in the colonel's direction. "We've never played, so I guess we'll have to find out."

"If I win," Jack clarified. "Your move, Loren."

Loren nodded and returned to the board.

--

"Daniel thinks we're doing it."

Sam stopped suddenly, frozen in her tracks by the abrupt subject change. "What?"

"That's what I said!" Jack insisted.

"Why does Daniel think that we're…?"

Jack shrugged, "Dunno. But he cornered me while I was making steaks. Warned me to be careful. As well as Daniel can anyway."

She cocked her head to the side, trying to reason out the implications of that statement. "Use protection careful or don't do something stupid careful?"

"Major Carter," he exclaimed, mock-surprise coloring his face. "I'm surprised at you."

"Please," she huffed, raising an insolent eyebrow. "You walked right into that one." Jack gave a pleased laugh before she could continue. "So what'd you tell him?"

"Meh, I told him that there was nothing to be careful about. That we weren't doing anything." At this, she couldn't help but send him a doubtful look, to which he shrugged again. "And that if we were, it was none of his business."

"He's just concerned for us."

"Yeah, well, it isn't any of his business."

Sam sighed. "He cares about us. We're teammates. And what's more, he's not wrong. So it is his business."

"Watch it, Carter. You're being way too serious for being on vacation."

She smiled and nudged him with a short laugh. "So Daniel really thinks we're doing it?"

"Oh, yeah."

She grinned, knowing there was more than a hint of mischief in the expression. "Oh, this could be fun."

"Carter!"

"Well, come on. When the time is right, you have to admit that you would totally take the chance to mess with his head."

"You mean, let him think what he wants?"

"Why not?"

His silence was both stunned and absurdly pleased. "You are a dangerous woman, Carter."

"'It's about time you noticed."

**Day Seventeen**

It had to be admitted that Jack got a sort of fiendish delight in tormenting Daniel. Not with the Carter thing – as far as Jack was concerned, that would always be off limits. No, Jack loved using knitting to mess with Daniel.

It was a long standing tradition that had started early and never really faded – not even when Daniel finally found out about the knitting. If anything, that had sort of added to the fun.

This was why when he heard a yell from Daniel down the hall, followed by the slamming open of his bedroom door, Jack just smiled. "Did you need something, Daniel?" he asked innocently.

"How do you do it? WHEN do you do it?" Daniel demanded, flailing a bit.

"I'm not following. Do what, exactly?"

"THIS!" Daniel yelled, thrusting a pair of hand knit socks in Jack's face. "I have watched you these last three weeks Jack, and seen you knitting maybe twice. But in that time, Sam has gotten a pair of socks and a pair of gloves, you finished a sweater for Cassie, made socks for Loren, and now THESE. How are you doing it?!"

Delighted by Daniel's spectacular overreaction, Jack grinned. "Daniel, I-"

Obviously knowing what was coming next, Daniel said it with him, "…have no idea what you're talking about. I know."

--

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

Jack shrugged. "Floor's all yours."

"Do you…I mean, would you ever…" she sighed. "Never mind."

He nudged her gently. "Hey, now. None of that. Alien drugs, remember?"

Her smile was small and a little sad. "Some things are a bit too big for even alien drugs to handle."

"Not true. Alien drugs conquer all. What is it?

"It's just…you're never going to want more kids, are you?"

The question was so unexpected that he actually stumbled a little in the sand. "I…"

When he didn't finish his thought right away, she shrugged. "That's what I thought."

"Hey, that's not fair! This is a big thing you're asking, and it's only fair that I get a minute to process. I mean…do you even want kids, Carter?"

"I didn't used to."

"What changed?"

"Cassie."

"Ah," he said in agreement, studying the sand intensely. "Look, seeing as we've broken every other rule during these conversations, let's be blunt. The truth is…I would give anything to have a second chance as a father. Does it scare the shit out of me? Undoubtedly. But…a baby? With you? Worth it."

He shifted again, uncomfortable having all of that information just lying heavily between them. "Problem is, you really don't want a kid with a guy like me."

She watched as his gaze harden, his jaw muscles flexing beneath his skin. "With all due respect, si…" She stopped, and looked away for a moment before taking in a breath, "No, I can do blunt too." She paused again, "That is a pitiful excuse. You think your track record scares me?" she brushed a hand through her hair, "Did you forget what I do for a living in the last five minutes or something? Or are you just getting worried that all of this 'alien influence' stuff has been just that?"

He didn't say anything.

"This isn't P3R-118. These alien drugs haven't wiped our memories or who we are. I know who you are." She continued, "I know who I am. We get to keep these conversations. We get to keep these…these feelings. These three weeks happened."

His fingers rested on the shield of his watch, gently flipping it open and then closed "Isn't that the problem though? We're supposed to what?" He faltered, "I'm supposed to what? Keep going as the unbiased leader after these three weeks? It was hard to let Thera go, but I never knew her like I've gotten to know you."

Her face flushed for a moment, "But we…"

"Not us," he interrupted with soft authority. "They."

Her eyes searched his for a moment. "That easy?"

He had never said it was easy. But it was damn well the only way he could stay sane. Seeing as that was probably too much information, he simply didn't reply. After a moment she nodded. "Fine. But my point is...I guess we knew what we were getting into. Alien drugs are all fine and good, but we both knew what the situation was three weeks ago and didn't stop this."

A completely fair point, he had to admit. But this conversation had passed fair a long time ago. "And that leaves us..?"

She shrugged. "Where we are. Until something changes, anyway. Even if it seems like it never will."

He squeezed her hand, trying to comfort her without getting too close. "You weren't kidding about being able to do blunt were you?"

An uneasy smile crossed her face, "I do okay."

Samantha Carter was anything but merely okay, and that was part of what made it so damn hard. "This is probably going to seem stupid, but, would it be okay if, what I mean is, I think I need some…time, er…or space," he ventured.

"Take all you need," she gently let go of his hand and turned down the beach. "I promised Loren I'd play another game of chess with him when I got back, anyway."

**Day Eighteen**

"We should talk about what's going to happen with Loren."

"We should, sir?"

Jack's eyes shifted to the left and then back right, obviously deeply uncomfortable with this conversation. "Yes."

"Okay..." she drawled slowly, confused.

"I'd take him if I thought it wouldn't kill me."

Sam's breath caught at the bare honestly in his words, some of his discomfort making sense. This whole conversation was a little too close to yesterday's to be easy, and she swallowed nervously, taking her time to respond. "Any word from Hammond as to what might happen to him once we're Earth-side?"

"Not yet," he confirmed, "they want to keep him on base until a foster home pops up. He did say that he'd asked around the base, but so far no eager Fraiser's have volunteered to take the kid and give him the best home possible."

"Sure," she allowed, letting a moment pass before she couldn't help but ask, "You really think you could give him that?"

"The best home possible?"

"Yeah."

He blew out a long breath, hands fidgeting by balling up and releasing almost spasmodically. "I'd like to think I could…or can. But with our work, my schedule, I know better than to really believe something like that."

"So I'm out of the running too, then."

The expression that lingered in his eyes as Jack looked at her was a tender one – the sort of expression that she couldn't look at too long. "Carter with an insta-kid. I think I'd like to see that."

"We'll find someone," she ventured, trying to brush off not only his statement but the warmth in her stomach.

But the wistful tone in Jack's voice was still tugging at her. "Loren asked me about what would happen to him when we got back."

"What'd you tell him?"

"Oh, that he'd be safe. That we'd find him the best home." He stared across the water, obviously unhappy with the situation. "Default vagueness."

"We will."

Jack shrugged, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. "I think he's going to be disappointed when he doesn't get to stay with me."

"Just him?"

Jack's silence said more than enough, and Sam couldn't help but think it was time to try to distract him a little.

"You think Cassie will like him?" was what she finally came up with.

"He's a great kid. I'm sure she'll love having a fellow-non-earthling around."

"What if she thinks he's cute?"

"Carter!"

"What?" she asked, laughing at his look of horror. "You just said it yourself, he'll be the only other teenage alien around. They're about the same age. It could be an instant connection. Loren could be her first heartbreak."

"We are quickly crossing into territory Jack does not want to think about. Cassie is still twelve years old as far as I'm concerned. Boys don't exist for her yet."

"Of course not, sir," she retorted, obviously and blatantly mocking him.

"And Loren _definitely_ doesn't know what girls are yet," the colonel insisted.

"Ah, left all the girls back on base this mission, huh?" she asked with more than a trace of sarcasm.

"That's not what I meant! He knows girls as a sex exist, just not in that cute, young, bouncy way. And you're definitely not a girl. I mean...you're a woman! But you're in the older, motherly category." Carter snorted at that, thoroughly amused. "To him, I mean!" Jack insisted, his eyes darting in her direction. "But not to…other people. Because --because you are younger and, okay, sometimes bouncy when you get excited. But you are way more than cute. Hot, really..." he trailed off, eyes slowly perusing up and down her body as their walk stuttered to a halt.

Her grin faded, and that irritating warmth in her stomach that she had been unsuccessfully trying to banish all afternoon turned up more than a few notches. "Enjoying yourself?" she mused dryly.

His eyes snapped back to hers, guilt written across his face. "Entirely too much."

"Yeah," she said slowly, biting her bottom lip as she met his gaze. "Me too."

He swallowed, the movement entrancing, and his eyes flickered to her mouth. "This is bad."

Quite without meaning to, she found herself leaning in closer. "Very bad."

And then his hands were her on her elbows, warm and firm. "Definitely bad."

Without realizing it, they were there, a perfect brush of lips against lips with one thrill of heat...before the panic set in. One second he was there, and the next they had both lunged away, inhaling sharply.

"Shit," Jack said.

She blew out a long breath before risking a glance at him. "Yeah."

**Day Nineteen**

He had known better than to get attached.

Attachment never led anyplace good, not when Jack O'Neill was concerned. Attachment just left him here, huddled on against a wall, watching a young boy sleep and wishing desperately for things that could never be.

But God, how he wished.

A soft hand on his shoulder made him jump. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard Sam coming. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he whispered back, not moving his eyes from Loren's bed.

"Why are you up?" she asked. A perfectly valid question, seeing as it had to be about 0200.

He sighed. "Last check in Hammond let me know that he found a home for Loren."

Carter nodded, watching him carefully.

"In Washington."

"Oh," she breathed out, slowly sliding down the wall until she was crouched next to him.

He swallowed, trying not to look at her. "You know, I told myself to be prepared for this. We even talked about how I know I can't really give him anything just this afternoon. But…save for him being an alien…" he looked away, "Charlie would be just about his age."

Her hand tightened around his, her body unconsciously leaning closer. "I know," she breathed. "I know."

They watched the young boy breathe in and out together, the reassuring rhythm oddly soothing.

They stayed like that for a long while before he realized that he was keeping her awake. "Carter…"

"Shhh…" she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

The quiet assurance made his hand tighten around hers in a grip that had to hurt, but it was a long, long time before he could manage to let go.

**Day Twenty**

There was a loud hum for a moment, and then the room fell into darkness and Sam stepped away from the Light controls. "Well," she said with a weight to her voice, "I guess that's it."

They all stood in a circle for awhile, contemplating the rather plain room. "How long do we have to stay?" Daniel asked finally.

"Oh, probably one more day," she guessed with a shrug. "Just as a precaution."

There was no need – not really. In fact, they probably could have been weaned off the alien drug faster. It was just….

She didn't know where that thought led, but Sam doubted it was any place good, so she cut it off before it finished.

"One more day in paradise," Jack mused from her other side. "You know what this means, don't you?"

When no one replied right away, he bounced on the balls of his feet in a way that made Loren laugh. "It means that this is our last free day. In honor of this, we should play games. And have a picnic. And BBQ."

Beside him, Loren's voice sighed. "Can I just ask for one thing?"

"Sure, buddy."

"No catch? _Please_?"

--

Instead of catch, it was settled that they would play Sardines. Sam had hid first, and when Loren had been the last to find her in the pantry, it had been his turn. It had then taken them a solid half hour to find him – there were definite advantages to having a couple years of familiarity with the palace on them.

Jack had stumbled into the hidey hole last, so it was now his turn to hide and everyone expected him to have something even more ridiculous up his sleeve. Which is why when Sam swung open the door of the wardrobe in his room as a lark and found him leaning nonchalantly against the overdone goa'uld outfits there, she was surprised.

She turned, checking that no one had followed her before stepping into the wardrobe. "This really isn't that original, you know."

"True, but with all the rooms in this place, I figured no one would peg me for an original hiding spot kind of guy."

"You figured wrong, then."

"Well, give me some credit. It's not like I'm under the bed."

"You were waiting for your next turn to try that one out?"

"More like, on the off chance that Daniel found me first, would I really want to be stuck there for that long?"

"You are an interesting man, sir."

He grinned proudly before tilting his head and putting a finger to his mouth. "Shhh. Someone's coming."

She nodded, amused at his antics as someone walked into the room.

A deep sigh followed the shuffling of feet. It was Daniel, she was sure of it. On a whim, she turned and pressed herself tightly against the colonel – maybe a little more tightly than was quite wise, she acknowledged ruefully as her breath caught a bit.

"Carter!" he whispered harshly, "What are you doing?"

"The right time and place, remember?" she hissed, a dangerous glint in her eyes. This would serve Daniel right for putting his nose where it didn't belong.

Seconds later the doors opened to reveal a blank faced Daniel.

Sam cleared her throat and moved back from the colonel, allowing space for Daniel.

Jack stood frozen for a second before also clearing his throat and brushing a hand over his uniform in feigned nonchalance. "Daniel, great timing. As ever."

"How, uh, flattering," Daniel muttered, looking suspicious of what exactly he had just walked in on. "You guys been in here long?"

Sam smiled sweetly – a dangerous sort of smile if you really knew her. "About seven minutes."

"Quite a heavenly seven minutes," Jack added, picking up on the rouse and grinning widely.

"Yeah," Daniel groaned before stepping back and walking out of the room.

Jack frowned with a huff, "Well, he's no fun."

**Day Twenty-One**

As the last flat was loaded and sent through the 'Gate, Jack looked around, strangely loathe to leave this place. "Is that everything?"

"I think so," Daniel confirmed. "We've turned off the device, double and triple checked every room, packed up…hey. Where's Sam?"

Jack had a few ideas about that. "Probably off doing something highly scientific and last minute. I'll go find her."

Daniel, in his own world by now, just nodded absently. "There's so much to catalogue…" he muttered under his breath as he stepped through to Earth.

With a smile and a shake of his head, Jack headed through the palace, taking one last minute to study every room. "Carter?" he called, even though he had his suspicions about where she was.

Sure enough, he found her leaning against the outside wall, digging her feet into the sand and staring out at the gray ocean. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied. "I just wanted to…" her voice trailed off into a helpless shrug.

"Ah," he said, leaning against the wall beside her.

After a moment, her head found its way to his shoulder and his arm drifted around her waist, drawing her nearer as they stared out onto their beach.

Her right hand drifted up and tangled in the front of his shirt, gripping it tightly. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered.

Jack brushed a kiss on her forehead before he could stop himself. "Me too."

Other than that, there was nothing left to say.


	24. At Knit's End

Title: At Knit's End

Author: Katrina

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: After _Entity._

Summary: Could this be the end of socks?

Author's Notes: Come on, you knew the last fic was too good to be true, didn't you?

--

Even as Daniel's shadow fell over him, looming overhead with an ominous sort of intent, Jack didn't bother to pause in eating his pie. In fact, ignoring Daniel's presence was entirely too easy.

Until Daniel had to go and do something irritating like speak. "Hey, Jack." Wisely, Jack didn't respond. "How's the pie today?"

"Same as always," Jack replied flatly.

"Seen Sam yet today?"

Well, that hadn't taken long.

"Have you seen her at all yet?"

Still ignoring. Ignoring would make the problem away – Jack didn't care what MacKenzie said.

"So, that's a no then."

Jack sighed, chewing even more slowly. "Isn't it a little early for you to be this annoying?"

"It's four in the afternoon," Daniel retorted dryly.

"Exactly," Jack confirmed, stabbing the remaining bite of pie, placing it in his mouth and chewing loudly.

Daniel's sigh was heavy and final. "She'd really like to see you."

He knew. Of course he knew. He just couldn't do anything about it. Sliding out of his seat and dropping his fork with a clank, he brushed past Daniel and out of the commissary. "Have a nice evening, Daniel."

"I hate it when I'm right," he heard Daniel mutter on his way out the door.

That, Jack could agree with.

--

Almost another work day finished and Jack still hadn't gone back to visit her. He had, in fact, done everything to avoid it. He had trained with (and gotten beat down by) Teal'c. He had perfected a new yo-yo trick. He had eaten two pieces of cake and some Jell-o.

He had even done his paperwork.

When all that was finished, Jack had resorted to wandering through the tube-shaped halls of the SGC, determinedly NOT thinking about Carter laying in the Infirmary several floors away.

Come to think of it, he never had understood why NORAD thought a tube was a suitable shape for a top secret facility. Square hallways seemed so much more suited to a military mindset. They were sharp. Plain. Regulated.

It seemed like at least something in his life should be. With that thought, Jack sighed and climbed into the elevator, more than ready to go home and continue with his not-visiting-or-thinking-about-Carter plan of action.

Thinking about Carter meant thinking about what he had done, and that…that was something Jack had to stop doing. He had to stop thinking about how with one action, he had been willing to wipe out everything they'd built, from socks to answering her incessant questions on that damned beach. Because that was what he did. It was what his job – his _life_ - demanded of him.

God, he really was a self-destructive son of a bitch.

Sure, at the end of the day, nothing had happened. Did that make it better? Or did that just mean that this one time, luck had decided to be on his side?

He honestly didn't know. Wasn't sure he wanted to, either. Luckily, just then the elevator doors opened again – a timely distraction. He stepped out and headed for the parking lot. As he neared his truck, he felt his phone ring in his pocket.

Picking it up without looking, he barked, "O'Neill."

"Jack?"' Cassie. Now there was a welcome distraction.

"Hey Cassie. What's going on?"

"Oh, not much."

One thing he had figured out after a few years was that not much was _never _not much. "Uh huh."

Her voice was hesitant and maybe a little sheepish, because she knew how transparent she was being. "So, um, do you think you could come pick me up?"

"Depends."

The girl huffed loudly. "On?"

Jack listened for a moment, making sure that he couldn't hear anything suspect in the background. All he could hear was a TV jingle, though – nothing unusual. "What's going on, Cass?"

"I'm at home," she growled, "but I need to get out of here. Mom is driving me nuts."

He smiled, amused by her so purely teenage problems. "Ah. So I'm your escape strategy, huh?"

"Please?"

Damn, she must be desperate to skip right over wheedling and resort to begging. "Well, where would we go?"

"Anywhere. Take me to the hardware store and make me stare at nails for all I care."

He laughed. "I'm just headed out, think you can hold out for a few more minutes?"

"You are a life saver, Jack."

Hardly. Not that she needed to know that. "Sure, kid. See you in a few."

A soft "Thanks" came over the line before she hung up.

Jack swung his phone in his hand as he headed towards the Fraiser stronghold. This could be the worst decision to make this evening, but then again, he had nothing better to do than stew at home. Resolved, he punched a few buttons on his phone and waited as the call connected.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Doc."

"Colonel." There was a pause. "Everything okay?"

"You might have to tell me. I just got off of the phone with your daughter."

"Oh boy."

Jack chuckled at that response. "Yeah. She's requesting amnesty via good-ole Uncle Jack." Across the line, he could hear Janet sigh. "Things on the farm a bit rough these days?"

"Oh, I'd say it's about what you could expect from a teenager."

Because he had so much experience with them. This plan just kept getting better and better. "Well, I figure some time away might do her some good."

"Knock yourself out." The haste in her reply was…a little terrifying. "Keep her all night as far as I'm concerned."

"Sure, Doc. I'll be there in a few."

--

He was seriously rethinking this whole fiasco. Not five minutes into their drive to…well, wherever, and she had already brought up wanting to see Sam.

"Cassie…."

"Ja-ack."

How had she gotten that specific tone down so fast? "How about ice cream instead?"

"The commissary has ice cream. We could stop there first if you really need a sugar fix."

How was it that he could face down interstellar bad guys without blinking, but a fifteen year old girl had him in knots? "You're as stubborn as your mother, you know."

Cassie leaned her head back against the seat with a shrug. "Yeah. I'm beginning to think that it's one of our major problems. She says 'no'. I say 'yes.'" She rotated her finger in a circular motion. "Round and round and round we go."

Jack remained silent. Silent seemed to work best for him.

"Anyway," Cassie continued, "What's with you not wanting to visit Sam?"

"Can we not talk about that?"

"Yeah, that's not really an option. What happened?"

Sometimes, the girl was entirely too insightful for his own good. "Cassie," he warned in a rigid tone, "this is not a topic that is open for discussion."

Predictably, she ignored him. "Let's see, you've been weird ever since your three week disappearance."

"You're obviously confused. I'm always this weird."

She stared at him for a few moments before shaking her head and looking out the side window. The expression on her face made him feel…well, not good. "Being fifteen sucks."

Ha! At least she had thrown in the towel. Jack 1. Cassie 0. "Believe it or not, you being fifteen has nothing to do with me not wanting to talk about it."

She scrunched up her face disbelievingly.

"Really," he insisted, hoping the subject was now permanently closed after another sigh came from across the cab. "Do you want to talk about what's going on with your mom?"

"Yes," Cassie said bluntly, giving him a cool stare. "Which is why I want to go see Sam."

His stomach churned. "Walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"You're driving, not walking. And I told you – you've been _weird_."

"Cass, you're scary observant. Now, stop paying so much attention. You're making me look like a good influence."

"It's all from Sam and Daniel, so don't worry."

Jack couldn't help but laugh before trotting out his next argument. "I've been cooped up in that base all day, Cass. The last thing I want is spend more time there."

"_Please?_" With the slightly desperate tone lacing her voice, he could feel his resolve wane. He was such a sucker.

Now it was his turn to sigh. "Just promise me one thing." The girl raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Don't show up pregnant. Or strung out on…well, anything."

Cassie snorted. "When did you turn into an after school special?"

"Hey, watch it," Jack used his grown up voice, getting a little irritated with having his ass handed to him by a kid not old enough to drive. "Don't forget that I'm the one playing the role of the savior in this current scenario."

"Sorry." Cassie dipped her head, sounding honestly contrite. "I really do appreciate it."

It was a meek offering, but he'd take it. "Just reassure an old man that whatever's going on doesn't involve anything that would be cause for an after school special…or imprisonment."

"Don't worry, it's nothing like that."

"Smart kid."

"Which is no thanks to you either."

Well, that was true enough. "We're not going to go right this second, but I'll think about going sometime tonight. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," she allowed with a smile. "So where _are_ we off to?"

"Well, one of the things I can tell you about my three week hiatus is that I am now low on yarn."

"Oh, yay! We haven't seen them for a while. What's on the horizon for your next project?"

"I'm thinking about something yellow this time." Yellow was bright and happy and distracting.

"More socks?"

"No," Jack said shortly. He wouldn't be making socks for…well, for a long while, anyway. "Maybe a sweater or something. And I'm thinking of upgrading to different needles."

"Andrew will be thrilled. He asked about you last time I was there."

"Oh yeah?" Jack shook his head.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a slight laugh as she leaned against the door. When silence fell once again, Jack decided to try one last time.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it? I'm a fantastic listener."

"If I tell you now, do you promise to let it go for the rest of the night?"

He eyed her. "It's definitely negotiable."

She met his stare before crumpling slightly. "You know, it's nothing. Well, it's something. It's just everything she does is driving me nuts."

"Ah." Why did he offer to listen again? Oh, that's right - because he was a sucker.

"And then I end up feeling awful because I know it's not her fault." Jack remained quiet. "And I know everyone keeps telling me that I'll grow out of it. And that what's happening now feels bigger than it really is." She ran her fingers through her hair distractedly, obviously trying to sort out her thoughts. "But you know what? It's all I can see right now. And I know it's dumb. I'm from another planet and I know so much more than so many people. But still, I just can't see past any of this teenage shit!" She blew out a breath and winced before adding, "Sorry."

At a loss for what else to do, Jack reached across the cab and squeezed her arm gently.

Cassie sighed. "This must seem so mundane to you."

"No, Cass," Jack denied, though he wasn't honestly sure if he understood enough to have an opinion one way or the other. "Just out of my area of expertise." She needed Carter. Which was just so damn…typical of his life. "So how about we pretend that I'm not a pushover and I'll take you to see her after we hit The Yarn Shop, huh?" He could knit while she talked to Carter. Knit and not go in. That would be…well, it would suck. But it would be better than any of his alternatives.

Cassie scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. The simple act made him squeeze the steering wheel just a little harder. "You know this is why I love you, right?"

"And here I thought it was my dashing good looks and winning personality."

"I suppose those don't hurt," Cassie allowed with a small smile.

"Way to suck up, kid," he muttered.

"Why bother? You're already giving me what I want. That must suck for you, huh?"

"Maybe a bit," he allowed.

She reached up and brushed a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for doing it anyway."

"Anytime."


	25. Purls of Wisdom

Title: Purls of Wisdom

Author: Christi

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: After _Rites of Passage_.

Summary: Cassie has a lot of crap to deal with for a fifteen year old. Luckily, she has plenty of eager helpers.

Author's Notes: I love Cassie. That's all.

--

Cassie stood gazing at the week's worth of homework spread across her bed and let out a long sigh. In theory, a week away from high school and teenage angst and boy drama while getting to do cool things like manipulate magnetic fields sounded awesome.

In reality, you just ended up with a nasty lingering headache and a small mountain of make up work.

As a knock sounded on her door, she added a handful of overprotective and definitely freaking out parental-types to that list of unfortunate side effects. "Yeah?"

The door opened a crack and Janet poked her head into the room. "Hey, Mom."

The greeting brought a smile to Janet's face as she stepped all the way into the room. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

Cassie shrugged, climbing onto her bed. "Fine. A little headache. Nothing horrible."

Janet's hand was cool as she pressed it against Cassie's forehead. "Well, your fever's still down."

That much, Cassie was well aware of – Janet hadn't let her leave the constant care and supervision of the SGC Infirmary until her temperature had been normal for twenty-four hours. Not that being home was much better, of course. Still an over worried doctor, still too much schoolwork, and still more visitors than any teenage girl should have to cope with.

Of course, there was the food. The food was definitely an improvement.

At that thought, Cassie had to smile at herself.

"What's so funny?" Janet to asked.

"Oh, nothing," Cassie replied. "I was just thinking that I've definitely been spending too much time with Jack."

"Is that a hint?" a new voice asked from the doorway.

Sure enough, when she turned to look, Jack's face was peering into the room, a quizzical expression on his face. "I don't really bother with hints," she pointed out with a short laugh.

"Fair enough," Jack agreed, and with that reassurance, he came all the way into the room, an awkwardly shaped package wrapped in newspaper under one arm and his hands in his pockets. "I'll have you know that I'm quite the role model," he added.

"I'll be sure to take notes if I need hints on how best to kill politicians and get away with it," Cassie retorted.

"Oh, that's really more Carter's area. She can teach you to kill 'em with science and stuff. I just shoot them."

"Not exactly stealthy."

"And yet, strangely effective."

She had to laugh again – because really, what else could you do? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janet silently slipping out of the room, but it wasn't until the door had firmly clicked into place that Jack tossed the package at Cassie's head. "Here."

She examined the bundle. "Wow, I'm wrap-in-comics worthy?"

"Only the best for you, kid."

Ripping apart the paper, the (predictably) knitted gift was not at all what she expected. Instead of the usual hat or scarf with bobbles and fringe on it, there lay a carefully folded blanket nestled into the newspaper. The little-girl pink he usually used for her had been replaced with deep purples and greens and blues all wrapped into a delicate lace.

More than a little shocked, Cassie looked up into Jack's eyes, which were doing their best to avoid her gaze. "It's…not pink."

He shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "I thought you might be getting tired of it."

Well, yes. But…. "You're the only one I would let get away with it."

That finally put a smile on his face – as much as Jack ever smiled, anyway. "Good to know."

"Not that I'm complaining," she clarified, wrapping her fingers through the holes in the lacework. "This is…amazing."

Another shrug was his first response. "Well, it was supposed to be a birthday present. Then everything happened and well…."

"Yeah," she whispered, looking down at the blanket once again before throwing it over her shoulders and pulling it close. "You know, my mom wore these colors a lot," she mused out loud. "My real mom, I mean."

"Ah. Right," Jack acknowledged, shuffling a bit on his feet.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Sorry. I guess she's just on my mind since…going back and everything. It was strange, being back there. It made me miss things that I thought I had forgotten about. Stupid things, like the tune my mom hummed under her breath or the way my grandmother's kitchen smelled."

"What does an alien kitchen smell like?" Jack asked. "I've always wondered."

"Mmm," Cassie snuggled deeper into the blanket, "like kitchens here, really. Except not at all. I don't know, it's stupid."

"It's not stupid, Cass."

"Maybe, maybe not." She shrugged the blanket off again, restless. "Does it ever happen to you, though – you're just living life and suddenly there's a sound or a smell or someone who looks just a little like…" Cassie's gaze shifted, "And suddenly it's all just there, even when you've gone ages and ages without thinking about everything?"

Jack's sigh was heavy. "Cassie, I'm not…I mean, I just don't think…" seemingly at a loss, he finally just stuck with a bald admission, "I never go ages and ages without thinking about everything."

"Oh," she muttered, finally looking back up at him and belatedly noticing how strange he looked – gray and desperate to be away from this conversation. "I'm sorry," she ventured. "I didn't mean to…."

He tried to make it all seem like nothing, putting on that strange sort of face when he purposely wasn't telling her something. For once, she let him. "It's fine. Are you okay?"

No, not exactly. "Sure."

On some subjects, even Cassie knew her limits with Jack, and she had just jumped over and then up and down on a few of them. "Thank you for the blanket."

"Any time, kid. Happy birthday."

He left a few minutes later, a tightness to his shoulders and a quicker pace than she was used to seeing as he head out the door.

Shit, she had upset him. She hadn't meant to – she honestly hadn't meant to say any of it. She knew – hell, everyone knew – that Jack was not one to talk about the past. It was just that she couldn't seem to help it right now.

Luckily, her next timely visitor was Daniel and he loved talking about the past. He was accompanied by Teal'c, of course, being his usual chauffeur. "Hey guys."

"Cassandra Fraiser," Teal'c greeted her solemnly. "We have brought you flowers."

Flowers seemed to be a Daniel and Teal'c specialty, as they had brought her a bouquet of something or other every time they came to visit. She was pretty sure that Teal'c had gotten the idea that they were required. Not that she was complaining – it was sweet, really.

Today's bouquet was a bunch of Gerber daisies in shades bright enough to rival the neon colors of Teal'c's Hawaiian shirt collection. The happy little yellow centers made her smile. "Thanks."

Daniel shrugged, pushing up his glasses absentmindedly. "How are you?"

With Daniel, that was never just a passing question – Daniel always actually wanted to know. "I've been better. But I've been worse, too. I just stepped in it with Jack, though."

"I doubt that – he'd let you get away with just about anything."

She grimaced. "I brought up…well, the past."

They both knew what that meant in reference to Jack and winced. Well, Daniel did. Teal'c just nodded his head, but Cassie figured that was the Jaffa version of a wince. "It was an accident more than anything," she quickly offered. "I was just telling him that since going back to Hanka, I keep remembering stuff and asked him if…well, anyway, I think it upset him."

"He'll get over it," Daniel assured her. "Next time you see him, it'll be like it never happened."

Gotta love the magic of a determined mind. Of course, that didn't exactly solve her problem. "Well, that's good anyway."

In another situation, with other people, she might have felt alone. But with these two? The possibility never really existed. "It's okay to be thinking about Hanka," Daniel assured her, resting a comforting hand on her arm.

"It was your first home," Teal'c announced. "Your family was there. Is it not a huge part of who you are?"

Considering the events of the past week or so, Cassie thought that trying to deny that question was a bit useless. "I suppose. I guess it's just that I usually try not to think about it. There's only so much you can handle at a time, you know?"

Of course they knew. Daniel had lost his parents, his wife, his adopted home. And Teal'c…well, he had gone one step further and voluntarily given it all up. If anyone could understand how she felt right now, it was these two. "But being back there was hard," she admitted. "Not to mention, how I'm supposed to feel about owing my life the very woman who's responsible for the destruction of my entire planet? She killed everyone, and somehow, I survive not once, but twice." Her voice dropped to an almost-whisper. "What the hell makes me so special?"

"You are not," Teal'c answered. Trust a Jaffa to spare you unnecessary platitudes. "Death does not choose. It simply is."

Daniel, who seemed a bit irked by Teal'c's blunt answer, smiled sheepishly. "I think what Teal'c means is that none of this is your fault."

Somehow, Cassie thought that Teal'c meant exactly what he said – and actually, it helped. Before she could correct Daniel, though, another knock on the door interrupted them.

"Room for one more?" Sam asked.

"Always," Cassie nodded with a smile.

With that encouragement, Sam came in and sat right next to her on the bed without hesitation. It was amazing how much her presence helped Cassie's mood. When it came right down to it…well...Jack was the only father figure she'd ever known. Daniel and Teal'c were the best uncles a girl could ask for. And Janet was her mother, even when it drove them both nuts. But Sam?

Sam had stayed with Cassie even when it meant her own death. And that…that was hard to top.

"You're popular today, hmm?" Sam asked.

"So it seems," Cassie admitted, laying back on the hospital bed.

"We should be going, though," Daniel interjected as he and Teal'c headed toward the door. "I promised Teal'c a trip to the museum."

It was really remarkable how excited Teal'c didn't look. "Have fun, guys," Cassie called after them. "And thanks."

They both nodded as slipped through the door.

"Thanks?" Sam asked with a quizzical expression.

"Oh, they were helping me sort out some stuff."

"Ah. Stuff that still needs to be sorted?"

Probably was the honest answer, but Cassie really didn't feel like dwelling on it all right now. "Maybe later?"

"Fair enough," Sam allowed. "Talk about something else?"

"Yes, please," Cassie replied gratefully.

"No problem. So…tell me about this guy."

The choice in topic shouldn't have taken her by surprise, but it did. "Who, Dominic?"

Sam nudged her gently. "Is that his name?"

"Oh, he's just a guy," Cassie clarified.

"Is there such a thing as 'just a guy' when you're fifteen?" Sam wondered.

Not really. "He's a nice guy," Cassie hedged. "Mom told me that he's the one who's been bringing my homework over for me, even though he's not in all of my classes."

"Well, that is nice," Sam allowed.

"Yeah," Cassie admitted, horrified to discover that she was blushing a little.

"Seems pretty clear that he likes you. Do you like him?"

"Saaaaam…."

Next to Cassie, the bed shook with Sam's chuckles. "Okay, okay. I'll lay off. I'm just saying…I think this is good."

"You do?" Cassie asked, surprised. "Because you weren't acting like…."

Sam shrugged. "I can overreact sometimes. Still, if he ends up hanging around, I know we'd all like to meet him."

"Yeah, because that won't be horrifying at all," Cassie pointed out.

"You'll get over it," Sam assured her with a laugh.

"Are you sure?" Cassie joked, glad to be talking about something that wasn't genetic experimentation or planetary genocide.

"Positive," Sam confirmed. "Now, I am going to go and let you sleep some, okay? Janet's been pacing down the hall every five minutes since I came in."

"Oh, she started way before you got here," Cassie assured her cheerfully.

Sam stood, rolling her eyes. "Be nice, Cass. She loves you a lot, you know."

Thinking of everything she'd put Janet through the past week, Cassie swallowed. "Yeah, I know."

With that, Sam was out the door too, leaving Cassie alone with a pile of homework and a sudden case of insomnia. After a good half hour or so of tossing and turning, she sighed. "Hey mom?"

Almost immediately, Janet was at the door. "Yeah?"

"Stop lurking out in the hallway and come in here," Cassie ordered with a small smile.

Looking sheepish, Janet did, sitting down at the side of her bed. "You need anything?"

"Just you," Cassie answered honestly.

The expression on Janet's face was worth the effort, and before Cassie knew it, Janet was snuggled under the covers next to her, settling her head on her shoulder. "You didn't have to stay outside, you know," Cassie pointed out.

"I just thought you'd feel a little less claustrophobic if I wasn't around," Janet clarified.

"Mom, I just had four over-protective-adult visitors in less than an hour. If I couldn't handle overbearing types, I'd be dead by now."

The arm around her tightened briefly. "Not funny," Janet warned. "But point taken."

"Sorry," Cassie muttered, snuggling closer. "Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"All those horrible things I said to you?" Cassie ventured. "I didn't mean them."

"I know," Janet assured her with a smile.

Relief spread through her. "I love you," Cassie whispered.

The kiss Janet placed along her hairline was so light she could hardly feel it, but it was one of the best feelings Cassie could imagine. "I know that, too."

Content with that, she burrowed a little further into Janet's shoulder and finally fell asleep.


	26. Patterns

Title: Patterns

Author: Katrina

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: After _Desperate Measures_.

Summary:

Author's Notes:

--

It was a beautiful day. Carter was back, safe and sound, and he had a plan. A brilliant plan that was moments away from being instated. It was enough to make Jack whistle a little as he slid into his truck and hit his speed dial.

Two rings.

Three.

"Carter."

She sounded frazzled and that made him pause for a second and attempt to hear any telling background noise. There was the sound of shuffling before a curious "Sir?" came over the line.

Nothing suspicious so far, thus nonchalant was his greeting of choice. "Hey, Carter."

"Good morning, sir," she replied. "Everything okay?"

Shit. Too nonchalant. "Uh, yeah." He thought he heard her sigh in relief. "Just, you know, checking to see what color BDU's you were planning to wear today."

There was an incredulous pause. "Sir?"

"Well, think about it. We're the flagship, best of the best, number one team. Don't you think we should attempt to wear matching uniforms every once in a while?" Yeah. That was believable.

A door slammed on her end. "Um…sure? I guess that makes…sense."

"Yeah. I know it's kind of silly that it took me five years to think of it. But…" he was losing her, he could tell. "Daniel thinks blue today."

"You called Daniel this early and he actually agreed to this?"

Okay, so maybe he was lying. "Uh-huh. And he says blue today." So lying.

He could imagine the look on her face – he called it her 'the colonel has eaten too much cake' look. "Well, blue it is then."

"Great!" he agreed enthusiastically, silently thanking…whatever was up there that he had made it through this conversation. "All right, well, I'll see you in a bit. Drive safe."

"You too, sir."

Jack grinned as he hung up. Carter was a-okay. So far, so good. Except for the whole…lying thing.

Glancing at the clock display on his dashboard, he winced before he began punching in a new number.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four.

"What?" a groggy voice growled.

"Daniel!"

Silence. Silence was not good.

"Hey, so do me a favor and wear your blue BDUs today."

"What time is it?" Damn.

"I don't know. But will you do it?"

"I've already got my green pants on."

"Well, put your blue ones on instead. I have a plan."

"I'll see you at work, Jack." Double damn.

"I'll give you a hundred bucks."

Silence.

"And I'll bring you gourmet coffee for a month."

Daniel just groaned. "Whatever you're up to, I want no part of it."

"Oh, come on Daniel. One hundred and fifty bucks."

A long suffering sigh was Daniel's response before he finally growled out, "Fine."

Victory! "Oh, and one more thing?"

"I'm hanging up in five seconds."

"Pass the message along to Teal'c." More silence. "Daniel?" No response.

He glanced at his phone and saw that Daniel really had hung up. Well, here's to hoping, Jack thought as he rubbed his chin before he put his phone in his pocket.

--

Sam tapped her fingers on her steering wheel. That had been…odd. The colonel was definitely up to something. She grabbed her phone and hit number three on her speed dial.

"Sam, I swear, I'm about to establish a no phone calls before seven a.m. rule."

"What?"

"Never mind. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm attempting to confirm something suspicious."

"Okay, seriously. I don't do cryptic well in the morning!"

Sam winced at his irate tone. "Sorry. But the colonel called me this morning and said you wanted to wear blue this morning."

"Huh."

"Huh?"

"Well, I actually just got off the phone with Jack."

She grinned. The colonel was so busted. "Really?"

"Really. He offered me one hundred and fifty bucks and a month's worth of coffee if I decided to wear blue today."

"Huh indeed," Sam agreed, processing this new information.

Daniel sighed. "So, he's freaking out about…what now?"

"I did just get kidnapped."

"That was over two weeks ago."

"Thanks, Daniel. I love you, too."

"You know what I mean. This is belated. Even for him."

"Maybe," Sam allowed. "If that is it though, I wonder why he didn't just say so instead of all…this."

"He's Jack. He doesn't really do that."

"Well, he didn't use to. But I thought that we…." she didn't finish the thought.

Daniel just groaned. "You guys are both trying to drive me insane aren't you?"

"Well, we lead such boring lives."

"Right."

"So, Daniel."

"What?"

"Two hundred bucks and anything else you want if you don't wear blue today."

"Goodbye, Sam."

--

"You are such a traitor."

Daniel glared up at Jack from where he was seated at a commissary table, crouched around his morning coffee. "What can I say? Got a better offer."

"She knows? Dammit Daniel, you're a traitor and a plan ruiner!"

"Jack, your brilliant plans are never really as brilliant as you think they are," Daniel muttered.

"Not true," Jack insisted.

"So very true," Daniel shot back.

"Fine. I guess it'll just be me and Teal'c road tripping to Vegas next weekend, then."

"You're making my point for me," Daniel insisted.

Jack plopped down across from him, glowering darkly. Daniel just looked at him, willing the caffeine to kick in enough to deal with this. "You've got to stop this, you know."

"Stop what?" Jack asked innocently.

"This back and forth crap. Sam is the textbook opposite of stupid, Jack, but you're confusing the hell out of her."

"By all means, enlighten me."

Daniel sighed, blowing on his coffee. "One week, you're whatever you two are on a beach. The next, you're not even visiting her in the Infirmary. Then you're calling her up in the morning talking about color coordinated BDUs?"

"…See, when you put it like that…."

"I didn't put it like that, it is like that," Daniel said grimly. "I'm trying like hell to stay out of this, but would you please just make up your mind?"

"I…it wasn't about…."

"I know, I know. It was just you, being paranoid as per usual."

"It's not paranoia if they're really out to get your second in command," Jack insisted.

Daniel didn't feel up to dignifying that with a response. After a moment, Jack sighed.

"Fine, fine," he conceded. "But…."

"But?"

"But could we assign a color for each day or something? Because I really do think it would look cool."


	27. Sketchy Mending

Title: Sketchy Mending

Author: Christi and Katrina

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: After _Fail Safe_.

Summary: Time for a girl's night in.

Author's Notes: Drunk Sam is fun.

--

Tonight, Sam Carter had decided to get drunk.

For no particular reason other than that really, she hadn't in…a very long time. When she thought about it, it had been a bit of a year so far, what with the alien staying in her house and the being kidnapped and the riding an asteroid through the Earth. If she wanted one night to get drunk and not worry about the next disaster looming on the horizon, she didn't think it was too much to ask.

Judging by Janet's rather perplexed expression, Sam might've been wrong about that.

"What?" Sam asked, a warning tone lacing her voice as she gulped down the last of her second (or was it third?) glass of wine.

"Just wondering what's going on," Janet replied.

"Does something have to be going on?" Sam demanded. "Maybe I just wanted to hang out with you and Cassie and be with girls and drink and have fun for a change."

"I'm not complaining," Cassie volunteered cheerily. "It's sort of fun watching you get hammered, even if it is a bit…weird."

Since weird had long ago stopped having any kind of significant meaning in her life, this didn't really bother Sam. "Let's talk about something else. How are things going with Dominic?"

Cassie blushed, but smiled. "Things are good. Oh! Guess what?"

Not feeling up to guessing, Sam just shrugged and took another sip.

"He wants to take me to Homecoming."

Sam glanced toward Janet who simply shook her head in a somewhat lost gesture. "Really? Wow."

"Yeah," Cassie said tentatively. "I guess. I mean, I'm not that big a fan of dances. But if you can convince mom to say 'yes', then I might get a little more excited about it."

"Sam will be convincing no one, Cassandra." Janet interjected, "I've still half a mind to make you get permission from Colonel O'Neill anyway."

Sam couldn't help but giggle as Cassie's face fell.

"Yes, I think that's a splendid idea, my lovely daughter," Janet continued, obviously having fun toying with Cassie. "If he's okay with it, I'm okay with it."

"Mom, why would you even joke about that?"

Sam considered the situation and couldn't help but giggle again. "Good God, he'd have you in a chastity belt until you were thirty if he had his way."

"Sam!" Janet squeaked.

"So true," Cassie agreed mournfully.

"Cassandra!"

"Oh please," Cassie rolled her eyes. "It's just a football game and a dance. And please don't tell me I have to ask Jack. I swear, he forgets that I'm not a twelve-year-old girl anymore."

"Mmm, yes," Sam mused, "because fifteen really is _so_ much older, after all."

"Hey!" Cassie scrunched up her face, but laughed a little. "I could be married and having babies if I lived in Cambodia, you know."

Janet chuckled. "Yeah, use that argument when you ask the Colonel for permission, Cass."

"It's not like I'm going to go whoring around homecoming."

Sam snorted into her wine glass as Janet stood quickly. "I need a drink."

"Oh, fill me up too, please. I've hit empty," Sam pointed out, handing over her glass.

With a shrug, Janet reached to refill her glass, and Cassie perked up a little. "Can I try some?"

After a moment's consideration, Janet grabbed a third glass and poured some of the red into it before handing it to her daughter. "Only at home, with supervision," Janet warned.

Cassie rolled her eyes before taking a gulp of the wine – and immediately spitting it back out again. "Okay, ew. Explain the appeal of this stuff to me again?"

"It grows on you," Sam assured her with a smile.

The young girl looked dubious, but took a smaller, more tentative sip. "Okay…maybe," she allowed, still looking unconvinced.

With a grin, Sam tilted her glass in salute. "Cheers, then."

--

Two more glasses of wine later, Sam was trying to explain exactly what her work week had entailed. "And then we just…rode it through the planet. Like…zooooom! And then poof!" she insisted, moving her hands in dramatic gestures.

Janet's head moved back and forth as she watched Sam's hands dart one way, then another. "You've definitely been spending too much time with Colonel O'Neill," she observed wryly.

The observation made Sam pause and even pout a little. "Hardly any at all," she noted, feeling particularly pathetic about it.

"Is that what all this is about?" Cassie asked with what Sam thought in her haze was a delighted sort of grin.

"No!" Sam objected. "Not really. It's just hard not to notice, is all. At first I thought he was over compens…conpends…being too careful. But I don't think that's it."

"And yet, that's not what this little bender is about?" Janet asked.

Sam waved a finger at her. "Stop with the suspiciousness. I told you I didn't need a reason."

"Maybe you don't need one," Cassie allowed, "but you definitely have one."

Now, Sam was reduced to glaring at a fifteen year old. It occurred to her vaguely that she would groan about this in the morning. "Do not," she insisted stubbornly.

Cassie sighed and looked at her mother in exasperation. "Why do you all insist that I have no clue when something is up? Beyond me just knowing you all really, really well, you have to contend with the fact that you guys really aren't as stealthy as you like to think you are."

"I am too stealthy!" Sam objected rather emphatically before taking another big gulp of her wine. "I'm like a ninja, I'm so stealthy."

That comparison had both Janet and Cassie staring at her in dumbfounded disbelief. "Did Sam just say she was like a ninja?" Janet asked Cassie.

"I told you there was something wrong," Cassie just grumbled by way of confirmation.

"Oh, we're definitely on the same page."

Sam could see that they didn't understand, so with some effort and careful wineglass juggling she slipped off her shoes and gazed down at her feet proudly. "See? Ninja."

When they didn't reply, she pointed at her stocking feet. "'Cuz see, the socks make it easy to be quiet. Though I could do it without socks." The thought made her sad, and she sat down on the floor, taking another long gulp. "And I'm going to have to, because there are no more socks."

"Ha!" Cassie exclaimed loudly. "I knew it! This _is_ about Jack!"

"No!" Sam insisted stubbornly. "It's just….I realized today that it's been almost a week since we went poof through the planet and I haven't gotten socks. And then I thought some more, because you know, it's what I do, and I realized that I haven't gotten socks in ages."

The truth, now that it was out, seemed even more horrible to Sam's cloudy mind. "I love socks," she added, sounding more than a little pathetic.

"Oh boy," Cassie muttered after a moment of watching Sam in a dejected heap on the floor.

"This is really all about socks?" Janet asked.

"It makes sense," Cassie argued. "Socks have become important."

"_Very_ important," Sam insisted, flopping down so she was lying on their rug and staring up at the ceiling.

Seemingly at a loss, Janet just shook her head. "I've said it once and I'll say it again - I worry about all of you."

"They're not just socks," Sam tried to explain, though focusing on her train of thought was difficult. "It's like they're…they're…."

"They have subtext," Cassie supplied.

"Yes! Exactly. They are subtextical socks," Sam agreed, nodding and feeling proud of how smart Cassie was.

Janet pinched her nose with a sigh. "These are the days that I kick myself for not paying more attention during my psych rotation."

--

"Let's look at this logically," Janet pointed out some time later, when the last wine bottle had been put away and the room had stopped looking quite so fuzzy around the edges. "I can't believe I'm asking this question, but when did you first notice the lack of socks?"

"Just today, like I told you earlier," Sam reminded her. Still, that wasn't the whole story and she knew it. "But something's been wrong for longer than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, back after the alien light, we were…it was good. It was hard, but we were fine. And then, suddenly, we weren't."

"Not exactly specific there, Sam," Cassie prodded.

Trying to sort through the last year and pinpoint an exact moment that the colonel had changed, Sam frowned. "I guess maybe I first noticed it during the whole Orlin thing. I mean, I know it seems weird to insist on there being an alien living in your house…but it's not the strangest thing that's ever happened to us."

"True," Janet agreed a little too readily. "There was the body swapping thing."

"The turned into aliens thing," Cassie volunteered.

"The Daniel going crazy thing," Sam added.

"Really, I don't know how any of you are still sane," Janet pointed out.

"Assuming that they are is taking a lot on faith," Cassie pointed out with a teasing glint in her eye.

When had she become such a smartass? Sam just shook her head. "Nice, Cass."

"Nice is overrated," Cassie insisted. "I'll stick with honest instead, thank you very much."

Really, she probably had the right idea. "I just thought that after everything, he would've believed me. But he didn't. And then I was kidnapped and no one noticed for awhile. And now, no socks. It's upsetting."

"You're going to yell at me, but it has to be said – why don't you just ask him about the socks?" Janet suggested.

"I can't do that!" Sam protested, honestly appalled at the idea. "It doesn't work that way."

"Definitely not," Cassie agreed immediately. Of course, given the fact that the only backup Sam was getting was from a teenager, she was a little concerned about the validity of her argument. Before she could worry about it too much, Cassie said, "Of course, you're not the only one freaking out. Jack's definitely been weird lately, too."

That tidbit caught Sam's interest. "Weird like how?"

"I don't know. Weird like weird. He's grouchier than usual."

"Grouchy is the colonel's state of being," Janet pointed out.

"Not with me," Cassie said simply. "At least, not usually."

This piece of information made Sam feel…oddly better. So things were strained and something was wrong. That was life. At least, now she knew that it was bothering Jack, too. She leaned back against the couch, processing. "Okay then," she said finally.

Mother and daughter were silent for awhile before Janet ventured, "That's it?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. It wasn't much. But she'd take what she could get. "So, about Homecoming…."


	28. Knitwit

Title: Knitwit

Author: Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: Around _The Sentinel_

Author's Notes: I miss The Yarn Shop people. Do you? You don't? Well…too bad.

--

"Frances, dear, that's quite impressive work," Sue remarked as she slid a perfect Boston Cream Pie onto the work table.

Looking down at her knitting, Frances had to smile. The pattern she had found for knitting your own fishnets had been a serendipitous find. "Thanks. You know, lacework isn't nearly as hard as I thought it would be."

"Show off," Andrew muttered from across the table, throwing down his own tangled project in favor of cutting the cake.

"Now Andrew, don't sulk. Everyone learns at their own pace," Sue consoled him.

"Your pace just happens to be slower than everyone else here," Kate added absently.

"Somehow, I don't think he needed to be reminded of that," Frances pointed out through a grin.

"I hate you all," Andrew groaned.

Frances wasn't worried – he declared the same thing at least once a day. Twice, since Sue had started her most recent lessons on lacework. "Masochist."

Andrew eyed her funereal garb and shot back, "Well, you would know."

Irritated, she glared at him. "Real nice. You're such a little-"

She was interrupted by the cheery ring of the bell hanging on the doorframe, and they all lost the train of their conversation when they saw Jack walk in. "Anyone ever tell you that your timing is impeccable?" Frances asked, genuinely glad to see a different face in the store for a change.

Jack blinked. "Hardly." His tone was blacker than the yarn she was working with, which Frances seemed to remember being a reoccurring theme in his visits lately. "Sue, please tell me there is cake."

Sue smiled. "Will Boston Cream Pie do?"

"Absolutely," Jack said emphatically, flopping into the last available chair.

"Boston Cream Pie is cake, after all," Kate pointed out absently.

"Um, the word pie is in the name," Andrew argued. "Thus, it's pie."

"Don't be so literal," Frances felt the urge to chide him, still irritated about their earlier spat. "It's made from two layers of cake, after all. I think Kate's right."

"Well, that just makes you both wrong."

"Does it matter?" Sue interjected as she cut a sizable piece for Jack (suspiciously, his pieces were usually bigger than everyone else's). "It tastes good either way."

For his part, Jack seemed content to eat it in silence and stay out of it. Previously, he had always jumped on any opportunity to join in on their harmless and empty bickering, seeming to enjoy the triviality of it all. Lately, though….

"So, where's Cassie?" Frances asked, curious.

If anything, Jack's expression became even stormier. "I wouldn't know. She has decided to hate me."

"That seems unlikely, dear," Sue remarked soothingly.

"She's refusing to hang out with me - or hell, even speak to me for longer than necessary."

From what little she knew of Cassie, Frances thought this to be bizarre. Anyone with eyes could see how much the kid doted on the Colonel – almost as much as he doted on her. "What did you do?" Frances asked bluntly.

"And you all call me rude," Kate griped from the corner.

"It's just common sense and you all know it," Frances defended.

Their communal silence was a bit condemning and had Jack shifting defensively in his seat. "I didn't do anything!" he insisted.

"Cassie is a very sensible young woman," Sue ventured.

"It follows that she wouldn't just stop talking to you without good reason," Kate agreed.

"And yet, she did," Jack insisted more than a bit petulantly.

Of course, there was an easy enough way to settle this. With a shrug, Frances put down her knitting and dug out her cell phone. "What are you doing?" Jack asked dubiously.

"Getting the story from the horse's mouth," she said shortly as she scrolled through her contacts list.

"You have Cassie's number?" Andrew squealed with a fiendish sort of delight.

"Have for awhile," Frances confirmed.

"Why?" Jack demanded, perturbed.

Mostly just because they got along – all things considered, Cassie was a cool kid. But it was much more fun to say, "In case of a yarn-related emergency."

It had the added benefit of also being true.

Enjoying her moment of fun, Frances went ahead and put the phone on speaker. It rang a few times before Cassie's voice answered cheerily, "So, Jack the Grouch finally made his way over there, I'm assuming?"

"Is that what we're calling him now?" Frances asked with a laugh.

"Well, I'd call him something else, but it would probably get me grounded," Cassie replied.

Throughout this exchange, Jack seemed to be doing his best to pretend none of it was happening, instead focusing with unnatural intensity on his cake.

"Any idea what the problem is, dear?" Sue chimed in.

"I could guess, but that way lies nothing but irritation," Cassie cleared her throat before continuing, "Come the end of the day, I can't change his mood, but I can choose not to hang with him until he stops brooding. Thus, you get a pouting colonel. Not attractive, I'm sure."

"Hey!" Jack objected here.

"I've seen worse," Andrew seemed compelled to reassure him.

Cassie just laughed. "Still, I'm sorry for foisting him on you guys."

"Nice, Cass," Jack interjected, obviously annoyed.

"Hey, I call it like I see it. Act like a cranky two year old and that's how you're gonna get treated."

"I am not cranky!" he insisted in a distinctly sour tone.

"You're kinda making my point for me, Jack," Cassie said lightly. "Look, I love you, you know that. And I know things can suck occasionally – sometimes more than occasionally. But no one wants to deal with your crap if you're not actually going to do anything about it. Besides, I'm not supposed to have to constantly be subject to yours and Sam's crazy dance."

"As a minor, she's right," Kate pointed out.

"Wait, Sam's?" Frances said, the whole situation becoming clearer. "She's part of this…whatever?"

"Isn't she always?" was Cassie's bemused reply, to which all four heads turned to stare at the colonel.

"You know," Andrew leaned toward him, "I don't mean to overstep our friendship. But hasn't it been like…five years that you and this 'Sam' have worked together?"

Jack stood and grabbed the cell phone, "You know, this is _so_ none of anyone's business."

"I'm just saying," Andrew continued, "Maybe you should talk to the guy about what's going on."

Jack blinked and Cassie's voice chimed, "Sam is a woman, Andrew."

Andrew waved a hand in dismissal. "Not in my head."

"Andrew!" Sue scolded as Frances snorted and Jack's stance shifted.

"See, things could be worse," Kate offered by way of comfort.

"Speaking of," Cassie interrupted, "Sam's calling me on the other line. I'll talk to you guys later. And Jack?"

"What?"

"Chill out and remember that everything will work out. Love you!"

With that, the line went dead.

"She is creepy wise," Andrew offered.

"Tell me about it," Jack agreed, dropping back onto his chair.

"Too bad we don't have Sam's number," Francis offered. "We could pull a repeat performance with the woman of mystery herself."

Jack's posture straightened in alarm, and Sue moved around to pat him on the shoulder soothingly. "Leave the poor man alone, all of you."

"Thank you, Sue. You know, you've always been my favorite," Jack breathed.

"Oh, you don't get off that easy," Sue replied. "That young woman is right. Now get your butt out of my shop and either talk to this Sam woman or get your head screwed on correctly without her."

Jack's mouth opened and then closed, obviously at a loss for words. Of course, in a case of spectacular timing, that was right when his cell phone started to ring. "Thank god," Jack muttered as he opened his phone. "O'Neill."

Frances watched him carefully as he wandered out the shop with a hand raised by way of goodbye. "He worries me," Sue fretted from her chair.

"He's lonely," Frances ventured.

"He doesn't have to be," Andrew joked.

She rolled her eyes and picked up her knitting once again, trying to refocus. "Somehow, I don't think you're quite the cure he's looking for."

Andrew wrinkled his nose at her reality check. "You know, it occurs to me that you're in college. Shouldn't you be studying or something?"

"Please. Knitting is a much more productive use of my time," Frances scoffed. "Besides, Kate's a lawyer and I don't see you bugging her to go do work."

"Because I don't want her to implode from the sheer pressure of it all."

"Much appreciated," Kate answered with a tight smile. "Besides, work is why I have an assistant."


	29. Dye A Lot

Title: Dye A Lot

Author: Christi and Katrina

Rating: PG

Timeline: Stretching from _Meridan _to _Descent_

Author's Notes: Moving on is a process. A process that through the power of fanfic, we speed up a bit.

--

**One Week and Three Days Since Daniel Died**

How anyone could manage to get such a small space so damn messy was a bit beyond Jack. But peering into what was – or had been – Daniel's locker was a bit like looking under an eight year old's bed.

Shaking his head, he heaved a sigh and began to move the mess into the bag he'd brought with him.

"Sir?" Carter's voice came from behind him, laced with disbelief and even a hint of outrage. "What are you doing?"

He paused for a moment before reaching into the locker. "What does it look like, Major?"

"You can't just dump his stuff into a trash bag like it's nothing."

Offering the bag of muddy boots and dirty socks to Sam, Jack shrugged. "This stuff, I can. The rest of it, I'll have to figure out."

That hint of outrage was a lot stronger when she finally managed to stutter out "With all due respect, sir, he just died."

The constant headache that had been lingering behind Jack's eyes for the past ten days flared up and he sighed, trying to will it away. "It needs to be done, Carter."

"Not yet! I can't…it's just…don't you even…?" she trailed off, voice frustrated and tight with grief and pain.

Grief and pain that Jack couldn't quite face.

Finally reaching the bottom of the locker, he slammed it shut and hesitantly turned in her direction, searching for something – anything – to say.

Seeing as he couldn't even quite bring himself to look at her, Jack knew that the perfect words were never going to come. "I don't know any other way to do this, Carter," he finally muttered.

With that, he brushed past her and headed out the door, ripping the tattered piece of tape that read 'Jackson' off the locker as he went.

Sam didn't come out for a long time.

For his part, Jack tried not to think about why.

**Two Weeks And Four Days Since Daniel Died**

Teal'c entered Samantha Carter's lab quietly, making sure not to disturb his friend as she worked. He took a seat in the corner, facing her, then quickly becoming involved in the book he had brought with him, content to simply sit quietly as he had done for the last couple weeks.

Today, however, it seemed that his friend was not satisfied with simple companionship his presence brought, and the soft call of his name immediately caught his attention. "Teal'c...not that I'm complaining, but would you mind me asking why you've been coming in here lately?"

He had, in fact, been coming to sit in her lab every afternoon for more than twelve consecutive days and was a little surprised it had taken her this long to question his behavior. He closed his book and looked at her closely, seeing how tired she was. "Would you prefer I found somewhere else to read?"

She stiffened, quickly assuring him, "No. No that's not what I'm saying at all. I just can't help but wonder why."

Teal'c met her gaze. "I used to spend many afternoons in Daniel Jackson's office," he explained. "After his passing, I found that I missed the camaraderie. I thought you might, as well."

Her smile was tentative, but present. "It has been a bit lonely," she admitted, leaning against her worktable. "What did you used to do with him?"

"Many things," Teal'c replied. "Often I would assist him in translating goa'uld artifacts. Sometimes, he would teach me the histories or ways of your culture." He glanced down at the book he was holding and smiled a little before continuing, "And of course, when I first came to your planet, he taught me to read your language."

"Sounds like Daniel," she said wistfully. "I'm trying not to dwell on it because I know he wouldn't want that, but I just...I miss him."

"As do I," Teal'c agreed.

There was subtle yet sudden comfort in being together in such a moment and Teal'c thought that they both felt the difference keenly. "What are you reading?" she finally asked, breaking the brief silence that had fallen.

He glanced at the book in his hands. "_The Fellowship of the Ring_. Daniel Jackson recommended it."

"Daniel would be a Tolkien fan," Samantha commented with a smile. "Are you enjoying it?"

"Indeed," he assured her. "Shall I read it to you?"

The offer seemed to surprise her, but judging from the wide smile that spread across her face, it was a pleasant one. "I think I would really enjoy that, Teal'c."

"Shall I start from the beginning, or..?"

"Oh, no, where you left off is fine," she assured him quietly, picking her tool back up and going back to examining the artifact she had been working on when he first arrived. "I've read it before."

He nodded and flipped to the page he had been reading before their conversation began. "...But go now with good hearts. Farewell, and may the blessing of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!"

As Teal'c read the surprisingly apt passage, he thought perhaps her smile lingered a bit longer than it had in days previous. His own certainly did.

**One Month Since Daniel Died**

Janet Fraiser sat at her desk, finishing up paperwork for the day when her phone rang.

"Fraiser."

"Janet," Sam's voice came across the line, "I need your help."

The doctor straightened, instantly on alert. "Are you on base?"

"Yeah, in the locker room." There was a muffled curse before Sam continued, "I need a box."

Janet frowned, confused. "Sam, I don't…"

"A biggish box. ASAP."

She was still holding the phone when the line cut off, leaving Janet completely befuddled. Deciding to just go with it, she shrugged and grabbed the first empty supply box she found, heading up to the locker room.

The scene that greeted her was…not anywhere near what she was expecting. At first glance, there seemed to have been some kind explosion. Of course, the only shrapnel left behind were socks. Single, unmatched socks of every color and pattern, spilling in a river out of Sam's open locker into a mess on the floor.

Sam herself was crouched there, frantically trying to find a match for a chartreuse lace anklet and what appeared to be a warm brown knee sock. Not to mention the pink sock that she seemed to be unaware of resting in her mussed hair.

"Well," Janet said with a smile. "This is new."

At the sound of her voice, Sam looked up with relief clearing coloring her features. "Janet! Thank God. Backup."

The use of the military term would have been ridiculous if it wasn't so apt. "Care to explain?" Janet asked, coming forward and picking the stray pink sock out of her friend's hair.

"I can't!" Sam insisted, grabbing the sock. "I honestly don't get it, Janet. I've gotten a pair at a time before, but never…this. I mean, he must have been stuffing them through the slats in the locker. I just opened it and…whoosh. Socks."

"Socks?"

"Lots of socks," Sam confirmed.

"So I see," Janet laughed, crouching down to help her match up pairs and put them in the box. "You have to give him credit, though."

"For what?"

"For finally getting over whatever's been bothering him. I mean, it's been how long since you've gotten a pair of socks?"

"I don't know. A year, give or take."

Janet eyed the mess of socks everywhere, smiling a little. "Well I'd say this is about right, wouldn't you?"

Finally getting what she was trying to point out, Sam looked at the socks surrounding them with new appreciation. "You mean…he just stopped giving them to me."

"But he didn't stop _making_ them," Janet confirmed.

If Janet didn't know better, she'd swear that there were a hint of tears in Sam's bloodshot, over-tired eyes. "You'd think he could be a bit more subtle about it," she finally said.

"Sam, the colonel has all the subtlety of a bazooka."

"Good point."

**One Month, Three Weeks, and Five Days Since Daniel Died**

"Good morning, sir."

"Hey, Carter. Just called to say it's blue today."

"Got it."

**Two Months, One Week, and Four Days Since Daniel Died**

"Carter."

"Sir."

"What do you think, green today?"

Sam couldn't help but smile, still as amused by this strange little routine as she had been a few months ago when he started it. "Uh, sure. It's been a few days of blue. I might have to change my socks to match though."

As usual, a blatant reference to socks quickly caused him to fall silent, and it was only with a light prompting of "Sir?" that she got him to speak back up.

"Right, well...we can't have a flagship team who can't color coordinate," he said lightly. "Hey, I was going to stop and grab some breakfast for me and Teal'c. You want anything?"

Before Daniel, they used to eat breakfast together in the cafeteria every morning. Since...well, it had quickly fallen to the wayside as one of those things that they didn't discuss. Until now, apparently. And while a takeout offer wasn't quite the same as sitting down around a table together, it was certainly a start. "Well, I already ate," she admitted reluctantly. "But you might be able to tempt me with coffee."

"Real coffee or fancy coffee?" he asked suspiciously.

"Surprise me," she offered with a laugh.

That idea certainly seemed to cheer him up. "One coffee will be delivered to your lab pronto. An unknown coffee. A coffee of mystery, even."

She shook her head and couldn't help but giggle as she wondered what exactly she had just done. "I'll see you soon, sir."

"Drive safe."

**Two Months, Three Weeks, and Six Days Since Daniel Died**

"You're up early today," Carter said by way of greeting.

"Meeting," Jack explained as he wedged his phone into his neck so he could tie his shoes. "Anyway, today, we're wearing green."

"That'll work," she replied with a hint of amusement. "Though you know, one of these days it'd be nice if I could pick."

He smiled. "Feeling left out?"

"Not exactly. I'm just afraid if I keep letting Teal'c pick out my wardrobe, I'll eventually end up thinking that wearing body armor to the grocery store is a good idea."

Damn, how had she known that Teal'c was the one who picked? Not to mention that she had a totally valid point. "And we can't have that, can we?" She could practically hear his smirk as he drawled, "Well, she who saves our asses on a regular basis can have a say, I suppose...starting tomorrow, of course."

"Of course," she agreed.

Her laughter was the last thing he heard as they hung up.

**Three Months and Two Days After Daniel Died**

Sam had just rounded the corner with an oversized box when she spotted Jack and Teal'c talking to Jonas.

"Hey guys."

The three men eyed the box and her precarious balancing act. "Do you require assistance with that box, Major Carter?"

"Oh, no Teal'c. Thanks, though."

Teal'c inclined his head in response.

"What's in the box?" Jonas asked curiously, as Jack tapped the side with a finger.

Sam shrugged. "Oh, just cleaning out my lab. I had some spare time and it was getting kind of full."

"Spring cleaning time again, is it?"

She grinned outright at the colonel's teasing. "Well, not all of us can afford to use our offices as endless storage for the memos we don't read."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." he said lightly, a smile lighting his features to match her own. "In other news, Teal'c was just saying that we should invite you to join us for dinner, weren't you T?"

Jonas frowned, missing a beat. "He was?"

Teal'c eyed Jonas for a moment before replying with a severe, "Indeed."

Sam tried to curb her amusement as Jonas' face scrunched in confusion. "Sounds good, where are we going?"

"We have yet to reach such a conclusion," Teal'c offered, easily taking the box from Carter's arms and moving to walk beside her.

"Thanks, Teal'c," she nudged him, "I had it though."

Jack rolled his eyes at Teal'c's self-satisfied smile before slipping next to her, an easy hand ushering her forward. "Anyway, I say we hit the cafeteria. It's apple pie night." 

"That's fine," Sam agreed, swiping her card for the elevator and watching the colonel out of the corner of her eye. "So, today was what? Amaretto mocha?"

Jack's face brightened as they stepped into the elevator. "The woman swore it would taste just like the almond snickers bars."

Sam's nose wrinkled, remembering the sickly sweet, slightly burned taste. "She lied."

"No good?"

"I believe Major Carter would prefer if you stopped picking various nut flavors for her morning coffee," Teal'c offered.

For a taciturn alien, Teal'c occasionally had something of a big mouth. Sam and Jack looked at the jaffa for a second before Carter shrugged slightly apologetically. "I did like the macadamia nut one."

Jack cocked his head to the side, grinning. "Carter, their list of flavors is unending. Excluding nuts hardly limits my options."

**Three Months, Two Weeks, and…Awhile After Daniel Died**

Studying the proper behavior dynamics of SG-1 had actually turned out to be harder than Jonas had anticipated. He wanted to fit in with the team, but he never would have guessed that the relationships between the three people would be so complicated. During meetings and team briefings, there was definitely an aura of stern professionalism...well, as professional as the colonel ever seemed to get anyway. And not having been on a formal mission yet or allowed to leave the base, it only left him with team meals in the cafeteria to observe and try to mimic their behavior.

It was these observations that led to him spying a prime opportunity. To the side of Colonel O'Neill's plate was a thus far untouched piece of chocolate cake. "Hey Colonel, can I try a bite?" he asked cheerily, not waiting to spear himself a little bit. "I haven't gotten to try the all-chocolate yet."

The immediate sinking sensation in his stomach as he chewed his stolen bit of cake was a clue that no matter his observations, what he had just done was not socially acceptable.

"Uh, Jonas..." Sam raised a hand in protest.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled at the colonel's unmistakable glare. "I just thought...I mean, a few days ago, Sam took a little bit of your food and you didn't seem to mind."

If anything, this seemed to make the situation worse. "Jonas Quinn, would you please accompany me," Teal'c finally said, interrupting the silence.

"Where are we going?" Jonas inquired, standing quickly.

Teal'c placed a hand on Jonas' shoulder. "Away from here."

"Okay," Jonas agreed, relieved to leave the suddenly tense table. He followed Teal'c out of the cafeteria and into the hall, where they eventually came to a more secluded corridor. "I really am sorry, Teal'c. I was just trying to...."

There was a trace of amusement on Teal'c's face that made Jonas feel a little better. "I am aware of your efforts, Jonas Quinn. However, I feel that you may be in need of some guidelines."

"That would be great!" Jonas replied emphatically.

Teal'c took a moment to before he began, "It would be best if you did not model your behavior after the relationship between Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter."

"Alright," Jonas said. "What about you and the Colonel?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow and let out a terse breath. "I would not recommend it. We all have unique relationships built over time."

Realizing that he had maybe been a bit too eager to rush things, Jonas nodded. "Okay. So, I can just be myself?"

"That would be wise," Teal'c agreed. "Also, you should be aware that there are certain subjects that we do not discuss."

Wanting to avoid any conversational pitfalls, Jonas wondered if he should write these down. He could always do it later. "Okay...."

"Avoid asking Colonel O'Neill questions about the past. It has happened and it is now over."

"I can do that," Jonas agreed.

Teal'c nodded, still very serious. "Also, you may note behavior between Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter that is...unique to their relationship. It is best not to dwell on how it may be different from their relationships to others."

"All right," Jonas noted. "Like the food sharing thing. That's what? A male-female behavior thing on this planet?"

"It is indeed something of that nature," Teal'c affirmed. "Lastly, if you should ever hear reference to Colonel O'Neill and knitting, it is best ignored."

"Sure," Jonas said. "And what is knitting again?"

"We do not discuss it."

**Roughly Four Months After Daniel Died**

It was sort of comforting, how fires looked the same on every world. Everything else could change – the terrain, the team, even the stars themselves – but fires were always the best way to relax after a long day. Today had certainly qualified, with Jonas' bright eagerness constantly clashing with the colonel's distinctly sour mood.

Gazing through the flames, she caught the young alien's eye and gave him a smile. His response was a full on grin – that was just Jonas.

The growl on her left, however, was a bad tempered colonel through and through. "Teal'c check the perimeter, will you? I'm about to turn in for the night."

Teal'c nodded in response as he stood, "Sleep well, O'Neill."

"Do you want some company?" Jonas offered, also moving to stand.

"Sit down, Jonas," Jack barked before Teal'c could respond.

Jonas froze for a moment before sinking back to the ground. "I was just going to..."

"Just going to what?" Jack challenged.

Sam watched as Jonas' shoulders fell. "Just going to head to bed myself. If that's okay, I mean. Sir."

Jack made no move to acknowledge the man's response, causing Jonas to glance at Sam.

"Get some rest, Jonas. I'll see you tomorrow," she offered, trying to sooth his worries a little with her tone.

He gave a sharp nod to both her and the Colonel and walked to his tent. Watching him duck inside, she sighed loudly, causing the Colonel to glance her way.

"What?"

She pursed her lips. "You know, you might consider being a bit nicer to the guy."

"Carter..." she could hear the warning in his tone but chose to ignore it.

"Sir?" she widened her eyes, waiting for an explanation that could justify his actions.

Jack's brow furrowed. "You know, you're channeling Daniel."

"No," she gently corrected, "It's just me. And I don't understand why you're being like this. It was one thing with the other replacements. Everyone knew they weren't going to work out." If she was honest herself, hazing them had even been sort of fun. "But Jonas...he stands a chance at working. And ambitious as he is, he won't put up with you forever."

"Carter." That I'm-your-commanding-officer tone was back.

Again she ignored it. "I know...I mean, you're not a big fan of change and I get that. But...we need a fourth. It's been months. What's more, you gave him the go-ahead. He's got the skills and he's doing everything he can to learn how to work with us despite your efforts otherwise."

"Can we not talk about this?"

She narrowed her eyes a bit defiantly. "No."

"Major." Shit. He was obviously not in the mood for defiant.

"With all due respect, sir, I get that you're upset that Jonas having a permanent spot on the team means that Daniel really isn't coming back. But your actions aren't just making things difficult for Jonas, you know. They're making everyone miserable."

"Well they aren't supposed to," he defended weakly.

"And that's supposed to make it better?" His lack of response had them sitting in tense silence as the flames flickered in front of them.

"I know you," she said, reaching out and laying a hand on his sleeve. "You're better than this. Hell, you stood up for Teal'c within the first week of him being on Earth. You are a good and loyal man when you want to be. So will you just...stop? Please?"

Jack looked between her eyes and the hand on her sleeve. "So not fair, Carter." She raised her eyebrows. "See, I know what you're doing. And using your womanly ways is just plain cheating."

Sam grinned, squeezing his arm. "Not if it works."

"Yes, well," he grabbed her hand from his sleeve and placed it on her lap, returning her squeeze a little before letting go. "You might have a point about all the Jonas..." His hands twirled in the air, finishing his sentiment. "Anyway, your concern is noted."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, smiling warmly at him, "Besides, he did kind of save our asses while we were being drowned to death."

Jack scoffed. "Yeah, remind me to thank your dad for shaving few years off of my life with that water stunt."

"You weren't wrong about him cutting it too close."

"No arguments there." He let out a breath and they fell into silence for another brief moment. "But if I had to be in that situation with someone..." Her head snapped up, the smile on her face suddenly clearing.

"I'd rather we didn't get into situations like that at all," she replied.

"Sure," he agreed easily. "I'm just saying it could have been worse."

Her eyes narrowed at the mischievous glint in his eye. "You're only saying that because you got to see me soaking wet, aren't you?"

He shrugged, leaning back with a bit too much contentment for her liking. "Hell Carter, every job has to have its perks."


	30. Slipped A Stitch

Title: Slipped A Stitch

Author: Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Abyss_

Summary: Jack doesn't deal. He knits instead.

Author's Notes: Um, so I have had this fic in my brain since karma_aster and I came up with Stitches and am insanely attached to it. So....if it sucks, don't tell me.

--

His house was cold. It wasn't entirely surprising, but after almost a month away it left a stale, unwelcoming feeling as Jack opened his front door. He flicked on a light, then just as quickly turned it off as the harsh artificial light irritated his eyes that were still a bit oversensitive from the tailend effects of sarcophagus withdrawal.

Slipping off his shoes, he wandered a bit aimlessly down the hallway and into the kitchen. He pulled the door open to his refrigerator to find it freshly cleaned out and brightly staring back at him, filled with Guinness. You had to love a team that wouldn't let you come home to a mold-filled fridge after a hard month's work of being tortured.

Popping the top of a bottle, he wandered back into the family room, feeling a bit at a loss. It wasn't the first time he had come home from a mission feeling...whatever he was feeling. But it was the first time in a long while, and as it turned out, proper coping skills weren't anything like riding a bike.

Though, God, wouldn't it be so much easier if they were?

After staring at the darkened room for awhile, he finally moved to turn the stereo on, filling the room with music and an almost startling life. It helped a bit, jolting him out of the silent stupor and into movement. Still shaking a little from tiny tremors that he had managed to hide back at the base, his hands grabbed a pair of knitting needles along with the remnants of an old skein - a golden color he had once used to make Daniel socks.

Knitting was probably not what McKenzie had in mind when he told Jack to "go home and process this emotional trauma".But at least it was something to do.

--

"Hey Sam!"

Sam looked up from her experiment to see Jonas and Teal'c walk into the room. "Oh, hey guys. What's up?"

"We're going to visit Colonel O'Neill!" Jonas explained.

Her eyes skipped over to Teal'c, who nodded. "Sergeant Harriman has offered to transport us," he explained.

"Ah," she said by way of understanding.

"Do you want to come?" Jonas asked. "I bet he'd like to see all of us."

Somehow, she doubted it. "I would, but this experiment is sort of delicate. I can't really go anywhere just now."

"We could wait," Jonas offered.

"No, no, it's fine. You guys go ahead," she offered with a small smile. "Say hi for me."

"Are you certain?" Teal'c asked.

She couldn't quite look him in the eye, so she concentrated on her experiment instead. "Yeah, it's fine." Except nothing about this - what had happened to the colonel, the eager new team member who didn't know to leave the colonel alone, her desperate desire to see him - was fine.

Teal'c just nodded and began to escort Jonas out the door. "Hey Teal'c?" she added as an afterthought.

"Yes, Major Carter?"

She hesitated, then continued. "Try and convince Walter to stop and get some take out for him." She hadn't put that much food in his fridge when she cleaned it out, instead choosing to use it as beer storage.

"Oh! That's a good idea! What should we get him? Does he like Chinese? Because the Marines let me try some Chinese takeout a few months ago and it was really...." Jonas was still talking when they were finally out of earshot.

--

It took the guys three days to show up on his doorstep, which was longer than Jack had figured Teal'c would be able to hold back Jonas. At least when they invaded, they brought food.

"You do like Chinese, right?" Jonas asked anxiously.

"Oh, sure," Jack said with a shrug, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of take out containers now littering his coffee table. "I'm just...not very hungry right now."

"There will be plenty food remaining," Teal'c assured him as he loaded up a plate.

"I would hope so," Jack retorted wryly, trying not to be irritated by the palpable cheeriness emanating off of Jonas.

"So, what have you been up to so far?" Jonas asked between bites.

Jack shrugged, "As Doc told me to take it easy, I actually have done a whole lot of nothing." He squirmed at the looks he received in response. "What about you guys?"

"Major Carter became a Goa'uld while you were gone," Jonas offered.

Jack blanched at Jonas' statement. "She what?!"

Teal'c cleared his throat as Jonas quickly added, "She didn't stay one. It was just an infant. And I got to stay in a hotel!"

Jack looked between Jonas and Teal'c, not sure what to say. He finally looked back to his knitting, briefly abandoned on the side of the couch and decided that it was a much safer option than speech. While he got situated with his needles and a bit of pink left over from the first hat he made Cassie, Jonas just kept talking.

"And Teal'c showed me this great movie," Jonas continued, seemingly oblivious. "You've seen Star Wars, right?"

Jack sighed. "Sure."

"It's great! I mean, who knew that...hey, what are you doing?"

"Knitting," Jack answered shortly.

"Oh. Oh!" Jonas exclaimed, causing Jack to look up at him with surprise. That had almost sounded like...recognition?"Right! So anyway, I thought the parallels between the Dark Side and the Goa'uld were really fascinating. Are we sure that George Lucas doesn't have clearance?"

--

"Knock, knock."

"Hey Janet."

"Hey. I heard you had been holed up in here the last few days, thought I'd come see what was going on."

"Nothing's going on," Sam defended. "I just have a really important-"

"Experiment," Janet finished with a knowing smile. "So you've been telling everyone."

"Right. My experiment."

"Sure. So anyway, Cassie has finally worn me down enough to shuttle her over to Colonel O'Neill's for a visit tonight. I don't suppose you want to take her instead?"

Of course she did. Which is exactly why she wouldn't. "I'd like to, Janet, but..."

"But the experiment. Of course," Janet allowed. "Sam, who do you think you're kidding?"

"Hopefully?" Sam asked a bit morosely, "Just myself."

--

Cassie, as per usual, barely bothered to knock before powering through the front door with a bang and launching herself onto the couch next to him. "Jack!"

When she was burrowed into his chest like this, it was so easy to pretend she was still a scrawny twelve year old kid. "Heya Cass."

"New rule, you don't get to freak me out like that!" Cassie squeezed him tightly.

"Well, I'll certainly try my best," Jack agreed, actually smiling a little.

"Try your best and then try harder," she instructed firmly. "Just so you know, I would have come sooner - to visit you in the Infirmary and everything - but Mom wouldn't let me."

Imagining what he had probably looked like in the throes of withdrawal - pale, shaking, and generally too sick to stand - Jack couldn't help but reflect that Janet was a wise woman. "That's all right."

"No it's not," Cassie insisted, finally pulling away a little, giving him enough room to get back to what he had been doing. The movement caught her eye and she sat back to take in the afghan. "Wow," she said finally, tone significantly more subdued than before.

He sent her a wry grin as he worked a thick yellow strand in a vaguely cabled pattern across one corner section. "Yeah."

"Errr...how long have you been working on this?"

Jack tried to do the math....back at home for five days, twenty-four hours in a day, minus the occasional two or three for sleep and food... "Awhile," he finally settled on.

"Right..." Cassie drawled out slowly. "Listen, Jack...are you okay?"

"Sure," he said lightly as he knit. "Why wouldn't I be?"

--

"Carter," Sam said absently as she answered the phone.

"Sam, why haven't you been to see Jack yet?"

"Hello to you too, Cassie."

"Oh, don't give me that. Sam...it's been a week. You need to go see him."

"The Colonel is a grown man, Cassandra. I'm sure he's just fine."

"Well then you're wrong. What's more, you're a chicken."

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Cassie, he's just been through...well, a lot. The last thing he needs is everyone and their mother showing up on his doorstep to bother him day and night."

"Maybe," Cassie allowed. "But then, you're not just anyone."

--

It was a couple more days before there was another knock on the door, this one quieter than the others. He almost didn't hear it over the music and the click clack of his needles as he bound off a row of green. "Come in!" he hollered, too busy to bother with getting up.

At first, he thought that maybe whoever it was had just gone away, but then he saw her out of the corner of his eye, hovering on the step that led down into the family room. "Hey Carter," he greeted her.

"Hello, sir," she replied, not moving. In fact, she seemed to be staring at the afghan, a bit aghast. "What...are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" he asked as he finished binding off.

With a skeptical look on her face, she bent down and fingered the blanket carefully, playing with a bit of fringe hanging off of a bright red section. "Sir, this thing is bigger than your couch."

Jack blinked at the comparison, looking at the afghan with new eyes. Sprawling and stretching across the floor like some kind of strange fog, it covered everything in a mess of stitches and patches. It bunched up some places, but was stretched too thin in others, and was an overall haphazard and clashing mess. It was easily the ugliest thing he had ever made, which in his current frame of mind made complete sense.

Carefully, Carter picked her way across the blanket, the shocked look still completely plain on her face. "Where in the world did all this yarn come from?" she asked.

"Leftovers," he answered with a shrug. "The bits and pieces that weren't good for anything."

Understanding lit her eyes, and she looked at the blanket again, this time with what almost seemed to be wonder. "This bright orange...from when Teal'c was brainwashed?"

"Well, just because he was swearing to kill us all, didn't mean his feet should be cold," Jack felt the urge to point out.

"And the purple?"

"For Doc. When Cassie was sick."

Her hands wandered a bit further, lingering on bits of cabling and tracing patterns here and there until finally latching onto a triangle of electric blue - the leftover yarn from the very first pair of socks. "That's..." he started to volunteer.

"I know what this is," she said softly.

He was uncomfortable with the heavy and uncertain silence that fell between them. "I really should finish," he said gruffly. "I was just about to start a new section."

"Don't," she said immediately.

Feeling more than a little irked by her tone, Jack replied, "There's still...I mean, I need to...."

With a sigh, she sat next to him, gentle hands reaching forward to pluck the needles out of his hands. "You are finished."

At first, he felt like he should argue, because it was all a mess and maybe he could fix it with just one more section added right on the edge there by the brown leftover from an old hat. But as the palpable warmth of her body sitting next to his seeped into him, he realized that it was a relief to stop - to have the decision made by someone else. Someone he could trust.

He let out a long breath, slowly slumping into the couch and feeling for the first time like he wasn't waiting for the steps of Jaffa in his hallway, coming to take him away for one more round of immeasurable pain and horribly cold light. With his eyes closed, he could see the blanket for the first time in his mind, and it brought a small smile to his face. "It's really ugly, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied, a trace of laughter hinting around the edge of her words. "But it's wonderful."

When he opened his eyes, hers were the first thing he saw, wide and worried and perfect. "Hi," he said again, this time softly.

"Hi," she replied, holding his gaze.

Without thinking about it, he found his head nestling on her shoulder, his fingers wrapping around her own. "Stay awhile?"

The way she squeezed his hand tightly and moved her head to rest against his was answer enough.


	31. Bobbin' Along

Title: Bobbin' Along

Author: Katrina

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Unnatural Selection_

Summary: Jonas has had a rough few weeks, and it starts to show.

Author's Notes: You know, Jonas (regrettably) wasn't around long, but man, they liked to give him the emo when he was!

--

One of the perks of being towed home by an Asgard ship was the downtime. Usually, a long space ride meant being on shifts, ready for any sort of catastrophe that might (and usually did) arise. But with Thor at the helm, there were no worries. Just a long, stress-free ride back to Earth.

Was it bad that she had started to find these rare occasions of off-world inactivity relaxing?

She wasn't going to think about it too hard. Instead, she had a few hours of spare time, a deck of cards stashed in her vest, and three of her favorite people all in one place with nothing to do. Things could be a whole lot worse.

Rounding another passageway, she came up short when she noticed Jonas sitting on the floor, knees up and back resting against the wall. He didn't seem to notice her arrival, and his trademark grin was missing.

"Jonas?"

The man turned his head, but didn't really focus on her. "Hey."

"The Colonel, Teal'c, and I were about to play cards to pass the time. Care to join us?"

"No thanks," he declined.

Uh-Oh. It wasn't like Jonas to pass up prime 'team bonding' time. "Everything okay?"

Jonas didn't even try to hide his monotone, "Sure." Clearly a lie.

She sighed. So much for the free time and the mindless games. She slid down the wall beside him and nudged his shoulder with her own. "Which explains why you're busy sitting doing...what are you doing again?"

Jonas shrugged. "I'm...just thinking."

"What's on your mind, Jonas?" she pressed.

"I can't seem to get over the Colonel purposefully using Fifth that way."

Ah. That. "Jonas, dwelling on stuff like that won't help anything."

"It suddenly doesn't bother you?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

That was a tough question, especially considering how differently she had hoped the situation would turn out. She made sure to really think it through for a minute before replying, "It does and it doesn't. I'm not happy about it, but in the end the colonel is right."

"Yeah," Jonas muttered, grabbing the back of his neck and trying to work out some of the tension lingering there, "that seems to be the general consensus."

"Jonas," she said firmly. "Do you remember the mission report with Reese?"

"Sure. Report 702561Q-A."

Well...that was a bit disturbing. Shaking it off, Sam just said, "What wasn't explained in that mission report was the trust Daniel formed with her before things got out of control. When all was said and done, he was furious with the Colonel for making a decision much like this one."

"You're consoling me by telling me that he does stuff like this often?"

"No. The point is, while Reese could have helped us - while Fifth may have given us a new understanding and advancement with technology - it's not worth the price we'd have to pay."

"He was different. I thought you saw it too," Jonas argued.

"I saw something. And yes, maybe it looked like compassion or empathy. But he was just a machine. And those were all just programs and command prompts."

"But wouldn't that be great to study? I mean, there's no way to know it would have ended badly."

"True. But there's no way to know otherwise, either. Replicators have a unbreakable conscious link with each other. If we would have brought Fifth, eventually others could have found him, which would have lead them straight to Earth. And you heard Thor, their way of life leads to nothing but destruction of everything but themselves."

"So it's okay that we manipulated them?"

Trying to comfort him, Sam laid a hand on Jonas' arm. "What choice did we really have? He might have looked human..."

"But he wasn't," he finished for her. At her nod, he heaved one last sigh, his head falling forward a bit. "I know. But when I thought about that, all I could wonder was how that makes them any different from Teal'c," he paused, before tightly adding, "or me."

"There's no comparison there," Jack's voice answered, causing both Jonas and Sam's heads to turn. He was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. "You and Teal'c might be aliens, but those things aren't. They're just fancy machines." With one more step, he officially joined their conversation, though it looked like the last thing he wanted. "Fancy, evil machines."

"I guess I just didn't expect this sort of thing."

Colonel O'Neill straightened a bit, smiling a little. "Jonas, you did read the mission reports, didn't you?"

The gentle teasing returned the smile to Jonas' face and this actually seemed to please Jack. "Now, come on. We've got nothing but time on our hands and cards to play."

"Plus there's all that food to eat," Sam pointed out as she took his hand and stood, stretching a little.

"Oh, Teal'c's already on it," Jack assured her with a wry smile.

By the time they got to the mess, it was clear that Teal'c was, indeed, on top of the surplus food situation. Having laid out quite a spread of any remaining perishable foods, the alien had already helped himself to a hefty plate loaded with food. The sight made Sam's stomach rumble a little, and for the first time she realized how hungry she was.

Once they all had plates in front of them, Sam dealt out the cards, the four team members settling into an easy game of rummy. "Now if only there was beer," the colonel sighed wistfully.

"I prefer juice," Teal'c informed him tersely.

The colonel's nose wrinkled a bit and he looked at Sam hopelessly. "I ask you - where did I go wrong with him?"

"He was bad from the start, sir," she confided in a mock whisper.

"Nothing I could do?"

"Completely beyond your control, I'm afraid."

"Ah. Well, that's all right then," Jack concluded amiably.

For his part, Jonas just sat watching them all with a frown on his face. "I'm lost."

With a grin, Sam reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "It's probably better that way."

"All right," Jonas agreed easily, laying down yet another run. "So these are the Asgard, huh?"

"Pretty impressive, dontcha think?" Jack more confirmed than asked.

"You know, it was my first encounter with a really foreign looking alien species. Every one else has looked pretty similar to my own physiology."

"Excepting the Goa'ould symbiotes," Teal'c corrected.

"Well, most of the time it's the human host I've seen, so I don't really count them."

Jack took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "I've seen cooler." At Jonas' inquisitive expression, Jack continued, "One time Daniel was held prisoner by a giant squid."

"A squid?"

"Oh yeah," Jack confirmed, bringing his fingers up to his chin and wiggling them for added emphasis. "Kind of a greenish blue thing. Lots of tentacles."

"You'd pick the giant squid over the re'tu?" Sam challenged, laughing a bit.

"Re'tu are over-rated," Jack insisted. "They were just over-sized cockroaches."

"Invisible over-sized cockroaches," Teal'c contended.

"See? Teal'c's on my side," Sam teased.

"Yet another example of my utter failure when it comes to his training," Jack acknowledged, mock glaring at their teammate. "Giant squid definitely trumps the cockroach."

"While the re'tu were strange, Major Carter, I believe the Unas are one of the most unusual races I have ever seen."

"Oh!" Jack hissed. "I forgot about them."

Her laughter was almost disbelieving this time. "You and Daniel were held captive with them and they slipped your mind?"

"It was three years ago, Carter," Jack defended. "I can hardly remember what I had for dinner three days ago. Plus, unfortunately my life hasn't gotten any less...strange since."

"Quite the opposite, in fact," Teal'c acknowledged.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed, grinning at Teal'c while munching on a potato chip. "Maybe there's hope for you after all."

Without really thinking about it, Sam reached over to his plate and grabbed one of his last chips. When she caught him eying her, she just shrugged. "I was out."

His mouth closed almost audibly and he stood to get another round of food, an amused smirk lighting his features. "Anyone else need something?"

"I'm okay," Jonas assured him, still working through a positively monstrous pile of fruit. "Anyone remember where the bathroom is, though?"

"Down the hall to the left," Jack answered, eying Carter as he pointedly grabbed an extra large handful of chips and put them on his plate.

Enjoying the easy camaraderie, Sam just grinned unrepentantly as she stood. "Actually, Jonas, I'll come with you. I think I left my BDU jacket in my bag." Mostly empty space ships, as it turned out, could have quite the draft.

They walked down the hall easily together, veering apart as she showed him the head and grabbed a BDU jacket from her pack before heading back. She had to hand it to the colonel, he knew how to make the most out of unexpected downtime. It was nice just to sit around with her guys (and in her mind, they were always her guys) and feel like a team again.

When she got back into the mess, the first thing Sam noticed were a pair of neon yellow socks resting upon Jonas' seat. They made her steps falter for a moment, before a bright smile spread across her face. When she sat down, she scooted her chair a little closer to the colonel, their knees touching lightly. When he turned toward her, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, she just smiled back. "Cold."

"You just got a jacket from your pack," he pointed out with a smile.

"I know."

"Ah," he said lightly.

Moments later Jonas appeared, whistling cheerily. The tune stuttered to a halt, however, when he caught sight of the socks now sitting in his chair. "What are these?"

Even Sam had to roll her eyes at that one. "What do they look like, Jonas?"

"Well, I know they're socks. I meant, where did they come from?"

Silence.

Utterly confused by this point, Jonas looked at each of them in turn - remarkably, right as all of their cards needed to be rearranged in their hands. "Hey, come on guys! What's going on? Socks don't just appear our of nowhere."

"Sometimes," Sam volunteered slowly, "when you're on SG-1 and you've had a rough couple of weeks - not unlike the last few weeks you've had - sometimes, socks do just appear out of nowhere."

Jonas picked the socks up, studying them carefully. "That's...not possible."

"Jonas Quinn," Teal'c said abruptly.

"Yeah?"

"Discuss something else."

"Oh. Uh. Okay!" Jonas agreed, sitting down. "Whose turn is it?"

"Mine," Sam volunteered as she quickly played a card and passed play to Jonas. "Though I've decided that the colonel and I are on a team."

"We are?" Jack asked, amused.

"Yup! Can't let the aliens beat us at our own game, sir."

"Oh, good point, Carter," he agreed with mock seriousness.

Jonas shrugged agreeably. "Well, okay, but I think it's only fair to tell you - I'm out."

Surveying the cards on the table, Jack turned to her with a crooked smile and said the only thing there really was to say. "D'oh."


	32. On The Fringe

Title: On The Fringe

Author: Christi and Katrina

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Smoke & Mirrors_ and _Sight Unseen_

Summary: The world of SG-1 is weird. The Yarn Shop crew is starting to notice.

--

"I still can't believe it," Andrew remarked as he carelessly stacked several skeins of turquoise yarn in a basket.

"Can't believe what? There's been a lot of unbelievable stuff going on around here lately," Frances pointed out from her usual perch in the corner. "And coming from me, that's saying a lot."

"That we know someone famous, of course!" Andrew clarified with a roll of his eyes. "Not everyone is obsessed with creepy bug things from that weird chemical spill incident."

"Please. Chemical spill my ass," Frances retorted.

Andrew sighed, looking over to his boss for support. "Sue, darling, please stop her from launching into the alien conspiracy theories. I've about had my fill."

"Well, you have to admit that the story is a bit strange, Andrew," Sue ventured. "Not to mention the unfortunate side effects it's had on Kate."

Wide eyed, Kate looked up from her chair. "What? I don't need water. Hydration is overrated. Like natural foods and sleep."

Sometimes, the things that came out of Kate's mouth stopped being funny and started being a reason to worry.

"Whatever," Andrew said dismissively. "Colonel O'Neill was on TV. Next to a senator." He swallowed, reliving the picture with a dreamy smile. "In his dress blues."

"I thought you had given up on that particular crush," Sue pointed out, needles flying.

"Oh, sure. But having a bit of common sense doesn't mean that I can't enjoy the view," Andrew retorted.

"Fair enough," Sue allowed after a moment, adding with a sly smile, "And what a view it is."

"He made the news watchable. It's quite the feat," Frances laughed. "But aliens still surpass TV appearances."

"By a yarn shop customer? I think not," Andrew scoffed. "It's exciting!"

"So you've been insisting for the last three days. Please, tell us again," Kate remarked in a flat monotone.

Wrinkling his nose at her, Andrew sighed. "You ruin my fun. Why?"

"She has so little joy in her life," Sue defended. "Now stop fretting about it. You're going to get wrinkles."

The mere mention had Andrew darting to the window to check his reflection. "Seriously?"

In the glass, he could see Sue double over in a fit of giggles, and he turned to glare at her. "Not funny."

"Maybe not to you," Frances said with a snort.

"Have I quit today yet?" Andrew asked.

"Only once," Sue said around the giggles.

"Two weeks," he threatened. "Mark it down."

She never did - but then, he never really left, either. Luckily, before he could decide to break the cycle and make it official (or, more likely, completely give up the habit of quitting at all), the doorbell rang and the very object of many an argument came strolling through the door.

As he watched the colonel take off his sunglasses and wave at all of them in greeting, Andrew sighed inwardly. Why did all the good ones have to be straight?

"Colonel," Sue greeted with a smile. "Cookies are on the counter."

"Excellent," Jack replied, doing a moderately passable Mr. Burns imitation and grabbing a couple of the freshly baked cookies. "And how are we all today?"

"We saw you on tv!" Andrew blurted before anyone could answer.

Frances groaned. "We're alla flutter today, it seems."

Jack grinned, sitting next to Frances and munching contentedly. "Now, be honest - does the camera really add ten pounds?"

"Not where I could see it," Kate assured him. "But then, I only saw the front of you."

"Somehow, I don't think having a camera pointed at him magically made his butt bigger, Kate," Andrew felt the need to point out.

"Stranger things have happened," Sue interjected. "Especially lately. So, to what do we owe this honor, Jack?"

"Dubious though it may be?" he joked. "I just needed a yarn fix. Between projects at the moment." Finishing his last cookie, he stood and began to wander around the store, perusing the shelves. "Andrew, you've been busy."

"Lots of new stock," Andrew confirmed. "Some great cotton bamboo blends."

The colonel's casual shopping hit an abrupt and predictable halt at a shelf toward the front of the store, staring at a shelf of preknit items for sale. "What...in the world are these?"

Andrew grinned, knowing exactly the shelf he was staring at without having to check. "You mean the neon insect monstrosities?"

"I suppose that's as good of a description as any," Jack agreed.

"Oh, we started making them a few weeks ago, inspired by a shared hallucination," Sue explained.

"Hallucination?" he asked. "Oh, you mean the chemical spill? That got to you guys?"

"Well, chemical spill or Sue tried to loosen me up with pot brownies," Kate grumbled. At the silence that filled the room after her accusation, she shrugged. "You have to admit that it's not completely implausible."

Sensibly, no one argued. Instead, Jack changed the subject. "And these things actually sell?"

"They've got quite the cult following," Andrew chimed in. "Alien freaks and geeks have been turning up by the truckload to request them."

"Aliens?" Jack questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"My alternative theory to chemical spill or drugs," Frances volunteered.

He smiled at her warmly. "Of course it is."

She grinned right back, not bothered by his comment. (Although Andrew never would have been allowed to make a similar one. Life was not fair.) "Hey, they're slowly helping Sue pay off the last bit of her mortgage."

"Every little bit helps," Jack agreed. "Congratulations, Sue."

"I can hardly take the credit. It was Frances' idea and she designs most of them," Sue shrugged.

"It takes talent to recognize talent," Jack pointed out with a shrug. "Though I can't believe Frances gave up black."

"It's a brief hiatus," Frances assured him. "Besides, Sue's giving me a cut of the profit."

He nodded. "Well, in honor of both of you, I'll take three. I know some people who will get a real kick out of them."

His announcement caused everyone in the shop to pause, and Andrew saw Kate and Frances exchange a loaded look. "So you recognize the creatures too, huh?" Frances asked, striving desperately to be casual.

"I'm afraid I can't say," Jack evaded smoothly, picking out an orange slug thing and eying a green creation with wings. "But I can't say I don't remember a shared hallucination or two."

After picking out his stuffed toys, a few skeins of a new sock yarn, and grabbing an extra cookie, he was gone, leaving The Yarn Shop silent for once.

"Is anyone else starting to wonder what exactly Jack O'Neill does in the Air Force?" Andrew finally ventured.

"Starting to?" Frances scoffed. "You are so slow."

"We have theories," Kate assured him. "Been working on them for years."

"Care to share?" he asked, curious now.

"Oh, secret experiments. Black ops. And aliens, of course," Frances volunteered.

Andrew sighed, wondering why he bothered. "Of course."


	33. Fuzzy Around the Edges

Title: Fuzzy Around the Edges

Author: Katrina and Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: After _Paradise Lost_ and _Metamorphosis_

Summary: Sometimes, dates happen and you forget to notice.

Author's Note: They've had a rough couple of weeks. They can be clingy if they want to be.

--

Paperwork days, Jack reflected as he walked down the hall to the elevator, always seem to fizzle away and leave him wondering what the hell happened to the day. Even if the stack of unfinished mission reports cluttering his desk would disagree, the clock said that work was finished. To Jack's stomach, that meant one thing - food. As he leaned forward to press the call button, he caught sight of his second turning into the hall.

"Carter," Jack called down the corridor, pleasantly surprised to see that for once she was leaving at a reasonable time.

"Sir," she greeted him cheerily, picking up pace a little to join him when the doors slid open.

"How are you?" His question was more earnest than he'd intended as he realized he hadn't seen her all day. Normally, he stopped by her lab to check up on her. However, today she had been holed up in meetings with a room full of people in white lab coats - people he made sure to avoid.

"Mmm, I'm good. Long day, though."

"Meetings went well?"

"As well as can be expected when you've got a room full of people arguing about energy output models and unstable elements."

"That sounds...horrible," he admitted.

The doors slid open again and she shot him an amused smirk as they began the walk out to the parking lot. "Actually, I loved it." His face must have exposed his distaste, because she just laughed before asking, "What about you, have a good day?"

"I don't know," Jack answered honestly. "But it's over now and I'm still standing, so I guess it wasn't that bad. What are you up to tonight?"

"I don't have any plans, really. The presidential candidate debate is on later and I should track down some food.""

"I was just thinking that same thing," Jack agreed. "You grabbing something on the way home?"

"Probably," Sam replied easily.

"Meet you at O'Malley's instead?"

"Oh, they have a new sandwich I've been wanting to try, so definitely."

He smiled at her before they parted ways. "See you in a few."

One short truck ride and an entirely too perky waitress later, they were comfortably relaxing in a booth, sipping their drinks. The food was always good and the atmosphere comfortable and relaxed - exactly what he needed. And he certainly couldn't fault the company sitting across from him either. "So," he ventured, feeling conversational, "it was a Scientist Samantha Carter day."

She nodded, leaning back with a whimsical smile. "About time, too."

Her nearly palpable relief had him pausing in thought. "You like it that much more than field stuff?"

"Not more, exactly," she replied thoughtfully. "It's just...different. Science is...well, I love SG-1. I love going through the gate. I love using science on the fly to save the day."

"...But?" he ventured.

"But science, I've loved longer. It's like..." she paused, her eyes searching his, "Well, for example, why did you join the Air Force?"

"To fly," he said promptly, not needing to think about his answer. "I always loved planes, and there was a chance that if I waited too long, I'd get drafted into the Army instead."

"Sure," she confirmed. "So you joined to fly. But you ended up in Black Ops."

Starting to see where she was heading with this, he nodded. "Yeah. It was a good career opportunity. And I was good at it."

"Right. But it wasn't flying."

"No," he agreed.

"Understand?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

"I do," he confirmed, trying to sort out what to do with this new information. "Thanks for explaining."

She shrugged. "Thanks for asking."

A contented silence fell over their table that was conveniently interrupted by the perky waitress bringing their food - always an excellent distraction from dwelling on things like how irritatingly hot Samantha Carter was.

Not to mention that the next subject she brought up had him horrified enough to put any and all inappropriate thoughts on the back burner. "So," she started lightly, "Cassie asked me about sex the other day."

Jack froze, a fry halfway to his mouth. "She did _what_?"

"I know," Sam nodded, eyes almost comically wide. "I almost swallowed my tongue when she brought it up."

Jack dropped the fry, his sizable appetite suddenly forgotten. "I am so not ready for her to be discussing...that."

"Well, ready or not..." she trailed off, taking another bite of her sandwich before continuing, "She and Dominic have been together for over a year, so it was bound to come up."

"I don't trust him," Jack insisted, which only caused Sam to smile.

"Of course not," she said with mock sympathy. "The good news is you don't have to be worried about it."

"You tell me this part _after_ the sex part?" Jack exclaimed.

Her laughter was surprisingly unapologetic. "I think she was just curious and didn't want to talk to Janet about it."

"Thank God," Jack sigh as he let out a breath and picked up his glass. "She really talks to you about that stuff?"

Sam nodded again. "She made it clear that she just wanted information and not...I don't know, tips?"

Jack sputtered into his glass. If he didn't know better, he'd say Carter was messing with him.

"I decided that it was good to know she felt comfortable enough to come talk to me instead of other potentially unreliable sources of information." Oh, that smirk definitely meant she was messing with him.

"When did she start dating and growing up?" Jack snipped, grabbing his burger. "I definitely don't remember getting that memo. And who is this Dominic kid?"

"Oh, you know," Sam waved her hand lightly, "Just some kid from school."

"Sounds shady."

Sam giggled, and no, that was not charming. "He's actually quite sweet. Good grades. Very polite."

"Yes well, I reserve the right to despise him on the grounds that I remember being a teenage boy."

Sam's eyebrows rose and she took a drink of her soda.

"What?" Jack could practically hear Carter's silent laugh across the table. "I do."

"Oh, I'm sure," she offered in a very matter-of-fact way. "I imagine you were one of _those_ boys, huh?"

Jack eyed her suspiciously before admitting, "I may have been the cause of several sleepless nights, yes. What about you?"

Her grin was more than a little evil. "Oh, I was the perfect student by day."

Wow. Jack didn't think she could have said anything more enticing as a response. "And by night?" he dared ask.

A devious smirk and small shake of her head were her only immediate responses.

"Don't think you're getting off that easy," he warned. "I have a hard time trying to imagine my second in command as a troublemaker."

"Oh, I never got in trouble," she corrected breezily.

"That just means you never got caught," he observed shrewdly. Her sweetly faked innocent expression actually left him chuckling. "I'm learning all sorts of new things about you tonight, Carter."

"Too much?" she questioned lightly, though there was a worried undertone in the question.

Carefully, he caught her gaze again, smiling. "Not possible."

Her smile and nod meant that she understood, and while he would have been more than happy to continue their conversation, the waitress chose right then to drop off their checks. "Damn," he muttered, fishing out his wallet. "This means I have to go home and work."

"Work?" she questioned, dropping a few bills next to his. "Don't tell me you actually brought your mission reports home."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scolded lightly. "My garage door opener is on the fritz. I'm going to have to spend a few futile hours banging it with tools before I break down and buy a new one."

She frowned. "I can take a look at it."

"Oh, no, that's all right. It's not a big deal."

"I know it's not. Which is why I should come over and fix it," she declared. "It won't take long."

Simultaneously touched and a bit confused, Jack shrugged. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all," she replied. There was something that he couldn't quite place in her tone, lying just underneath the easy assurance.

"Okay..." he drawled easily. "I'll meet you at my house then?"

She nodded and with that, they grabbed their stuff and were out the door.

He had the short drive home to puzzle over that strange little catch in her voice - almost like desperation. But that was ridiculous. This was Carter. She was fine. And she would tell him if she wasn't.

At least, he hoped she would.

Before he knew it, she was perched on a ladder in his dimly lit garage, digging around the gears and looking happy as could be. "It really doesn't matter, does it?" he asked from his position on the stoop to his kitchen. "What kind of machine it is, I mean."

She shrugged. "Tech is tech. Machines in particular are fun. It's like your yo-yos, or something. Why do you think I have the motorcycle?"

As a matter of fact, Jack tried very, very hard not to think about the motorcycle. It made thinking at all entirely too difficult. "Ah."

After a few more minutes of Carter poking at his garage door opener she snapped a piece in place and leaned back, "Okay. Try it out."

Jack grabbed the automatic door opener he'd slipped into his pocket and pressed the button. As if nothing had been wrong, the device quickly began working.

"I'll be damned," Jack muttered, pressing the button a few more times to ensure its functionality. "Remind me to tell Hammond you need a raise."

She snorted, "Yeah, that's ethical."

Jack grinned. "Well, I wasn't going to tell him it was for fixing my garage door."

"Ah," she mused, smirking up at him. He watched her discretely as he replaced the remote in his truck. If he didn't know better he'd say she looked a bit lost now that she didn't have something to do. "So, are you watching the debate tonight?"

"What debate?"

Sam raised her eyebrows. "The presidential candidate debate. Remember?"

"Oh." Jack pressed the garage remote to close the door and hopped out of his truck. "Um. Right."

Sam eyed him suspiciously. "You weren't going to watch, were you?"

Jack could never properly express how much he didn't want to voluntarily watch anything that included that weasel Kinsey. "Well...not so much, no."

"How were you going to know who to vote for?"

"Easy." He motioned for her to follow him into his house. "Just vote for the guy who's not Kinsey."

Sam shook her head and sighed. "Sir...that's so incredibly...."

Jack smirked, waiting for her to continue. "Yes?"

"Okay," she started, a familiar determined look on her face, "what if I watch it with you? With a bowl full of popcorn to throw any time Kinsey is on screen?"

Jack studied her, contemplating the proposal. That almost desperate tone was back along with her questioning gaze. "You okay?" Her gaze dropped to the floor, the sudden topic change revealing more cracks in her facade than he'd expected. "Carter?" She was shaking her head when he stepped closer to her. "Hey, what's going on?"

"I just...." she sighed. "No. I'm not okay. I'd just like to stay here with you for a while. Is that all right?"

The words rang with bare, brutal honesty, and it was certainly a sentiment he could relate to. Hell, the whole alien moon thing was still recent enough that he was a little afraid she'd disappear when he wasn't looking. Or morph into a deranged Maybourne. "Yeah," he said softly. "That would be fine."

Better than fine, really, but he wasn't one to quibble over details.

So somehow, he found himself ensconced on his couch with Carter and a giant bowl of popcorn watching Kinsey make an ass out of himself on national TV. "It's a good thing this is just the primaries," he pointed out as he lopped another handful at the screen. "There's still hope for the world."

Instead of answering right away, Sam threw another handful herself. "Actually, this other guy isn't so bad. Henry Hayes? He seems...thoughtful."

"So would swamp moss when standing next to Kinsey."

"Good point."

Absently as she watched, Sam chewed on a piece of popcorn. He glared at her, tsking loudly. "Now Major, I thought you knew better than that."

"Better than what?" she asked quizzically.

"You're wasting perfectly good ammo!" he exclaimed, heaving another handful at the screen.

Her giggles were infectious, and for a moment he let himself relish the feeling of having someone with him for a change instead of staring into the face of another night alone. "So," she ventured after calming some. "Do you really not care who wins? Other than it not being Kinsey, of course."

He shrugged. "I'd care more if I thought it would change anything. But I've served through...way more administrations than I want to talk about. From where I'm sitting, shitty orders are still shitty. The only difference is who gets blamed."

"You are the strangest man sometimes," she proclaimed, though if her small scoot toward him was any indication, she didn't seem to mind.

"Probably true," he allowed, jumping a bit as her cold fingers wrapped around his arm. "Jeez! You could have told me you were cold, Carter."

Without moving, he reached around and snatched what he somewhat fondly thought of as the Big Blanket of Doom from its resting place behind the couch, wrapping it around both of them. She seemed fine with this development, snuggling into the fabric. "I love this thing," she said as she played with an odd, fluorescent orange bit.

"And you call me strange?" he pointed out.

"All a matter of perspective, I guess," she replied with a smile.

The blanket was immediately warm around them, with the flickering light of the TV creating a drowsy, easy sort of feeling. Her head was on his shoulder, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out how or when it had happened.

Not that he was complaining, of course. There were definitely worse things than being cuddled up on your couch with Samantha Carter.

His arm went around her almost absently, pulling her in tighter. Almost like he was checking to make sure that she was really there and not melting away on some alien planet where he couldn't stop it. "You had me scared, you know."

Her head turned a little more toward his shoulder, almost nuzzling into him. "Look who's talking. Teal'c had to talk me down from the proverbial edge."

Onone hand, Jack hated that he had caused her pain. On the other, it was...sort of nice to know. "Really?"

Her fingers clenched his shirt tightly. "It's been a rough year, that's all."

He heaved a sigh of his own, burying his nose in her hair. "Won't get any arguments from me."

She chuckled a little, a dry, half-hearted sort of thing that sounded more tired than amused. "I should go home soon."

His grip didn't loosen a bit and he refused to feel bad about that. "Later. We've still got popcorn to get rid of."


	34. Point Protectors

Title: Point Protectors

Author: Katrina & Christi

Rating: PG

Timeline: During _Fallen _

Summary: Daniel is back - oh boy.

Author's Note: So, we decided that Daniel coming back would create quite a bit of havoc. Enjoy.

The stack of mission reports Daniel still had to read seemed to mock him as he stretched and stood to check the time. Trying to familiarize himself with his former life for the past three hours had given him a headache. He had to take a breather.

Trying not to think about it too hard, he headed out of his lab and began to wander wherever his feet took him. It'd been a kind of game he'd started playing after his first day here, figuring that even if he couldn't remember anything himself, maybe his body and subconscious mind would kick in. Of course, with almost 30 levels to explore, he'd gotten himself lost more than once.

Strangely, everyone on base seemed to be used to pointing him in the right direction.

Still, it seemed to be working. Everyday he felt more and more familiar with the stark gray halls. It was surprising how at home he felt here, especially considering how alienated he had felt during his time as Arrom. Of course, he thought as he swiped his card and waited for the elevator doors to open, it helped that no one here was telling bawdy jokes that centered around him being naked.

Moving into the elevator, he immediately hit a button without looking.

A short time later the doors opened and he stepped out. He nodded at an airman headed in and began his trek down the hall. Whoever had designed this place did a great job at making all of the exits look alarmingly similar, which didn't make his task any easier. He passed a few doors and large single pane windows with busy lab techs working behind them.

An open lab door to the right made him pause. He knew this place. Of course, he couldn't instantly recall why. Stepping in, he browsed the lab tables and counters, trying to place its familiarity.

"Daniel!" a happy voice called from behind him. He turned to see Sam standing in the doorway with a smile on her face.

"Oh hey," he casually greeted, somewhat relieved. He'd been found in a lot of places over the past week, but this was the first time he recognized the person who found him.

"How's it going?" Sam asked, grabbing a jacket slung over a stool.

"Oh, fine I guess. Just getting used to everything," he replied, motioning vaguely to her lab.

At her nod, he couldn't help but feel like he'd had this conversation a lot since he came back. "Anything else come back yet?"

"Not really," he answered, following her back into the hall. "I keep recognizing places or things, but then I can't remember why."

She winced sympathetically. "That sounds awful."

It was, but Daniel just waved her off. "I can't say it's one of my favorite things. But I'm still convinced that exploring as much as I can will trigger...well...anything."

"If there's anything I can do..." Sam offered, laying a friendly hand on his shoulder.

He tried not to tense as he considered the weight and feel of her touch, trying to remember if this was something they did. "Thanks," he smiled over at her and suddenly realized she wasn't in her standard BDUs. "You headed home for the night?"

"Yeah," she answered as she swiped her card and punched the 'up' button for the elevator she'd led them to. "There's nothing I can't finish next week."

He followed her into the elevator. Guess he was off to a new location. She hit the button he knew led her to the top. "Which floor?"

Daniel shrugged before stepping in front of the many columns and rows and punching one at random. "That one."

She glanced at him, making him fidget. To repel any unwanted questions, Daniel quickly asked, "Are you and Jim doing anything tonight?"

"Jim?" Sam's brow furrowed.

Damn. He'd gotten the name wrong again. "Uh...Jake?" At Sam's continued blank look, he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. "You know, the colonel."

"The Colonel?"

Had her voice just gotten higher? Daniel watched her shift slightly, nodding. "Yeah, do you two have any plans when you get home?"

Daniel would have sworn that he'd picked up that she and What's-His-Name were in a relationship of some kind, but Sam's puzzled look and tilted head left him doubting.

"Uh, not that he told me. Why? Did he mention something to you?"

Daniel shook his head, feeling foolish. "I just figured the two of you might have plans. It's Friday night." The elevator came to a soft stop and the doors opened. "I do recall Friday being date night."

"Daniel...the colonel and I? We're not..." He watched her sputter as he moved out of the elevator. Maybe they weren't together after all.

"You're not?" he attempted to clarify, but before she could confirm anything the doors slid closed and a very wide-eyed Samantha Carter moved up and away from him.

"Well, that was...interesting," Daniel muttered, turning and heading down another corridor.

His wandering stopped three elevator rides later when he stood before a door with the name Col. Jack O'Neill engraved upon a shiny silver plate.

"Jack," he muttered to himself, attempting to store the information. He had no idea why he couldn't seem to keep the name in his head.

"Daniel," the owner of the name barked, causing Daniel to jump.

"Are you always this stealthy?" A familiar annoyance crept over him. Interesting.

"Only when I'm supposed to be working."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Playing hooky?"

"I'm taking a break. It's different," Jack insisted, pushing his office door open. "How is 'Mission Explore' going?"

"Uh, okay," Daniel answered, following Jack into the office. "I just need your help clarifying something."

"Clarifying is usually Carter's department," Jack objected as he wandered around the office, gathering his things. "I tend to be...muddy."

"Well, I was talking to her earlier, but I think I might be confused about something," Daniel offered, trying not to sound as pathetic as he felt.

"Oh?" was Jack's neutral response.

"See, I thought I remembered something about her. And you, actually. But it seems I remembered incorrectly."

"Uh huh."

Daniel grasped the back of the office chair in front of him and leaned forward, trying to figure out how to ask this. "Is she dating anyone?"

To Jack's credit, Daniel wouldn't have noticed the fleeting twinge that crossed Jack's face if he hadn't been looking for it. "I really don't know."

Not satisfied with the bland response, Daniel pressed further. "So you and Sam aren't together?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "She's my second in command."

"That's not an answer to my question."

"We're teammates. No more, no less."

Well, he seemed sincere. "I must have remembered wrong then. Sorry."

Jack suddenly glanced back at him, looking intrigued. "You remembered Carter and me as a couple?"

Honestly, Daniel couldn't remember if it was an actual memory or if he had just...assumed. But seeing as calling it a memory made him feel like less of an ass, Daniel nodded. "Well, I thought I did."

"Huh," Jack mused as he picked up his keys. "Well, I guess that makes sense."

"What?" Daniel was now thoroughly confused. "You just said you aren't together."

"Oh, we're not," Jack repeated a little too quickly. "At least, not in this reality."

Daniel's mouth dropped open, and he sputtered briefly before attempting to clarify this new information. "In this reality?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded slowly. "Twice now we've come into contact with realities where she and I were a couple."

"We did?"

"Well, once was just you. But you told everyone about it. Quite a few times actually. So you weren't wrong, exactly. Just...not right, either." Jack's brow furrowed, heaving a sigh. "Ask Carter. She can explain it better."

Daniel rubbed his eyes under the lens of his glasses, trying to grasp this completely weird information. "How many other realities have we come into contact with total?"

"Hell, Daniel, I have no idea," Jack growled as he put on his coat. "Go ask Jonas. He's read all the mission reports."

As Daniel watched, Jack slipped on a black beanie - not surprising, considering that Daniel remembered him wearing very similar hats before. This one, however, had a painstakingly knitted white insert across the front. It read J-A-C-K.

Heh.

"Sure," Daniel said easily as he followed Jack out of the office and turned down the hall. "Have a nice night, Jim."

He could just make out the muffled sound of a curse before he turned the corner, back to wandering aimlessly once again.

This time, his journey ended at the infirmary. He caught sight of the head doctor - Janet, he thought tentatively. She was sequestered behind a desk, folders piled in neat little stacks in front of her. Taking a moment to knock softly before entering, he sat across from her and felt a distinct and heartening sense of deja vu. "I have decided that we have the weirdest jobs on the planet."

Janet chuckled and leaned back, seemingly glad for the interruption. "No arguments there. What's brought on this revelation?"

Daniel shrugged, noticing her nameplate and silently congratulating himself on remembering her name. "I'm just slowly sifting through the memories and feelings up here," he tapped his temple. "Not everything is lining up correctly."

"Oh?"

"Did you know that SG-1 has come into contact with multiple alternate realities?"

"I did."

Daniel laughed a little helplessly, but didn't know quite what else to say. Luckily, Janet's phone rang before he had to say or do anything.

"Fraiser," she paused, "Oh, hey Sam."

Daniel took the opportunity to really look around her office, trying not to eavesdrop. Weirdly, he thought he remembered the spot of chipped paint up in the corner by one of her taller filing cabinets.

"Cassie has a date tonight, but I'm wide open. What's up?" Okay, so not eavesdropping when sitting two feet away was kind of difficult. Not to mention the high pitched squeak that came out of Janet caused him to turn his head in her direction, completely giving him away.

"Did he?" Janet drawled, giving Daniel a curious look. He raised his eyebrows, definitely getting the feeling that he was being discussed. Amazing how that knowledge also came hand in hand with feeling like he was a kid in the principal's office.

Janet looked away briefly, smiling a little. "Meet you at your place at seven?" Another short pause, and then she nodded. "Okay. Bye."

Janet hung up the phone and smiled a bit too sweetly at him.

"What?" he asked, honestly curious.

"Daniel, I am really glad you're back."

"Well, that makes one of us." Whoops. Had he just said that?

Janet frowned.

"I mean, thanks," he back-pedaled. "So, who's Cassie?"

Janet eyed him again, challenging him. "You tell me."

Daniel sighed, evaluating his options and throwing out the best guess he could manage. "Your daughter?"

Her face lit up for a brief second. "You are either messing with me or making an educated guess."

"Guilty," Daniel admitted looking at his folded hands to avoid eye contact. He was not interested in the pained look he was getting used to seeing when he talked to his friends. "My next guess was roommate or sister or...something."

"I wish there was something more we could do to help you remember."

Daniel shrugged again, trying to reassure her enough to change the subject. "The wandering and mission reports have been helping. It's just a matter of time. At least, that's what I keep telling myself."

"All the same," Janet allowed, "you need to remember soon, because I can't handle another year without someone else obsessing over the Sam and Jack saga."

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "So there is something going on?"

Her laughter was loud and unabashed, but somehow, it didn't feel like she was laughing at him, so it was okay. "Who can say anymore?" she asked finally. "Though you've got her well and freaked out."

"What did I do?" he asked, a bit irritated.

"Oh, nothing," she assured him. "You just asked the questions no one else dares to. It was a very...Daniel Jackson thing to do."

The idea sort of cheered him up. "Really?"

"Really," she affirmed. "And God, I missed it."


	35. Wrong Side Right Side

Title: Wrong Side/Right Side

Author: Christi and Katrina

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: During the tail end of _Avenger 2.0,_after_ Evolution Part 2,_ and then after _Grace_

Summary: Some tense work situations lead to some tense personal ones.

Author's Notes: So while we've been playing fast and loose with canon for awhile, I think this fic is the official point of no return. Canon, at this point, becomes rather subjective - i.e. something we pay attention to only when we absolutely have to.

--

In general, Samantha Carter did not play the part of damsel in distress. Whenever someone even hinted at such a thing, Jack always laughed. She was a Major in the freakin' United States Air Force, not a damsel. And as she had proved early during her time as his second in command, she certainly was more than capable of handling whatever distress that might arise. Typically on SG-1, Daniel was cast in the stereotypical role of requiring a rescuer - it played to everyone's strengths a bit better.

Once in awhile, though, Jack couldn't help but desperately wish that she knew when to say when. When to stop trying to do everything and count on her coworkers to pick up some of the slack. He wished that she would take the surgeon general's advice and just say no.

Just say no to being on a space ship that gets hijacked.

Just say no to getting kidnapped by a van full of N.I.D. ninjas.

And for God's sake, just say no to being trapped on a hostile alien planet with the idiotic Felger for company!

Slipping his shades on against the alien sun and his own hastily rising irritation, Jack settled into commanding officer mode. "Teal'c, check and establish a perimeter," he bit out tersely. "Felger...get back to whatever the hell it is you're supposed to be doing."

"On it!" was the now chipper scientist's reply.

"Carter," the colonel drawled, "with me."

She nodded shortly, falling in step beside him as he proceeded back inside the ring transporter and rung back up to the alkesh. Once they were standing alone in the cargo area, the silence between them seemed somehow to magnify, and she shifted her weight a bit uncomfortably. Good. Let her be uncomfortable. He certainly had been in the hours it had taken them to fly here. "Sir, before you start...."

"First I have to figure out where to start," he bit out, not feeling inclined to let her try and explain. "Oh, wait, there's really only one thing to say - Felger?!"

His irate yell echoed a bit in the empty room and Carter flinched. "He designed the program! He was the best choice for the mission."

"No, he wasn't. You know how I know he wasn't? He's Felger!"

"Yes, sir, but...."

"But nothing!" he interrupted. "You volunteered to go to an occupied planet with only Felger as your back up! Christ, Carter, are you trying to kill yourself?"

Her blue eyes were wide and confused at his obvious overreaction, and the small, rational part of his brain agreed. The rest of him was too damn pissed to care. Slowly putting down her gun and even taking off her cap, she seemed to gather her thoughts a bit before replying, "With all due respect, sir, General Hammond okayed the mission."

"He didn't have a choice, now did he?" Jack found himself insisting. "You, on the other hand, didn't have to go and volunteer!"

At that, her eyes narrowed a bit, her chin jutting up defiantly. "We're SG-1, sir. It's what we do."

"Goddammit, Carter!" he yelled, advancing toward her without thinking about it. "You don't get to do this kind of stuff anymore!"

Obviously caught off guard by his advance, Sam retreated until she bumped against the far wall, trapped. Good. Let her worry for a change. "Sir, I don't understand," she said softly.

He heaved a breath, close enough now that it moved her hair a bit. "You can't just throw yourself into this kind of crap without thinking. Not anymore. Taking risks when you have to, when we're with you, is one thing. But Carter, if something happened..." If something happened, he'd break.

Looking a little panicked by the turn of this conversation, she objected, "Sir..."

"I know!" This was not good. This was not appropriate. This was everything they had been trying so hard to avoid.

As he yanked her toward him, he decided that none of that mattered right now. Her lips landed roughly on his own, and he kissed her with all of the frustration that threatened to drown him. He was pissed and relieved and turned on and did he mention pissed?

She needed to know that this was not okay. That she couldn't go traipsing around the universe without thinking about...without thinking. Hard, hungry lips and a desperate body crushing her to the wall proved his point. He had taken her off guard and took advantage of that, rough hands managing to get her flak vest off with relatively no resistance.

Eventually, she wasn't surprised anymore. And instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer.

That's when things really got out of control.

Dexterous fingers had his flak vest off without problems, and then they were in his hair or trying to search out some skin, driving him crazy in the process. Her mouth was warm and willing and perfect, but her neck was so tempting and her ear was right there and if he could just manage to unzip her BDUs a bit more....

He bit her and made sure it hurt. From the sound of her low moan, he judged that she didn't seem to give a damn. Hips crashed together and her leg wrapped around his and he found the zipper he had been looking for right as he realized that this shouldn't be happening.

This _couldn't_ be happening.

Somehow, he managed to pull away - just enough to put a hair of painful, heated space between them. He breathed in and out slowly through clenched teeth, trying to remember exactly why he couldn't fuck the sense back into her like his body oh so very much wanted to.

"Go help Felger," he managed to mutter, eyes closed because he wasn't sure he could look at her and still let her go.

Wisely, she slipped past him and gathered her things, stepping toward the rings with only a trace of hesitation in her step. "I'm okay, you know," she assured him in a whisper as she got into place.

"Yeah," he muttered as he pressed the button and sent her down to the surface. "I'm not."

--

He was sweaty, dirty, and a little confused, which never made for a good day. Add in a bleeding Daniel, an exhausted lab geek, and a tense ex-coworker lurking nearby and you pretty much described Jack's least favorite mission in long while. But with Lee sleeping and Burke checking the perimeter, one thing had to be asked. "It's a zombie making device?" he questioned, studying the artifact closely and trying to curb the impulse to touch it. "Why would the Goa'uld want to make zombies?"

"Well, we already know that the Goa'uld are obsessed with eternal life."

"But a zombie isn't eternal life," Jack objected. "It's...eternal death."

This seemed to amuse the archeologist enough to distract him from his leg. "In all likelihood, it's an offshoot of the sarcophagus technology."

Just the mention left Jack's skin crawling, and in a hurry to mask his reaction, he moved, sitting next to Daniel. "How's the leg?"

"I've had worse," Daniel assured him. "But I can't say that a helicopter and some morphine wouldn't be nice."

"Soon," Jack assured him.

"Yeah." A silence fell between them and Jack shifted his weight, antsy. Unhappily, the movement caught Daniel's attention. "Hey," he said quietly, "Are you okay?"

Determined to evade the question, Jack shrugged. "Sure."

That might've worked a few months ago. Unfortunately, Daniel was officially back to his full blown nosy self. "You sure?" he pressed.

"Yeah," Jack drawled. "Just...want to get back."

"What, and leave this lap of luxury?" Daniel joked wryly. "What's your rush?"

Usually, Jack wouldn't answer that question. But it had been a long few weeks and maybe...maybe talking to Daniel wouldn't be so bad. Just a little, of course - just enough to stop thinking about it all the damn time. "It's just....remember those stupid Storm Trooper Goa'uld things?"

"Uh, pretty clearly," Daniel confirmed with a roll of his eyes. "It's why we're here, after all."

Oh. Right. "Well, when I left, Carter was about to lead a mission to what we thought was their home planet."

Daniel hesitated, obviously confused. "She's Sam. She's going to be fine."

"I know," Jack agreed. That was the easy part - he did know. She would be fine.

Probably.

The 'probably' was where he got stuck.

"I did something stupid awhile back," he found himself saying.

"How is that unusual when it comes to Sam?" Daniel asked. At Jack's glare, he shrugged. "Okay, okay. How stupid was it?"

"Pretty stupid," Jack admitted.

"Pretty stupid?"

"Okay, really stupid."

"Ah," Daniel breathed, leaning his head against a tree. "Can you fix it?"

"Don't know," Jack replied honestly.

"Have you tried?"

Jack sighed, irritated. "I think I liked you better when you were calling me Jim."

--

This was always Jack's least favorite part - the part where he stared at Carter asleep in an infirmary cot and tortured himself by imagining all the ways it could have been worse.

It was also the only part that Jack never managed to avoid.

Before he could quite manage to banish the image of her body sprawled on the floor of the Daedalus from his mind, a voice jolted him out of the vision. "Hey, mopey."

He smiled a bit in spite of himself. "Not moping, Cass." Obsessing was not moping.

Her skeptical look clearly stated that she didn't buy it, but he just changed the subject. "It was nice of you to come."

"Like I'd be anywhere else?" she asked. "Though I swear, lately my entire social life has consisted of visiting one of you in the Infirmary. Do you think we could stop that?"

He'd love to tell her that it wouldn't be a problem - that everything was going to be fine. But Jack had always tried not to lie to the kid. "Probably not." While the answer was bleak, it was realistic. The war with the Goa'uld had always been hard, but these last few years seemed worse somehow - bad guys had stopped being over the top, badly dressed loons and started being the stuff nightmares were made of. The stakes were higher.

To her credit, Cassie just nodded. "Yeah, I figured."

"Sorry, kid."

"Not your fault," she sighed. "Anyway, let's go get some food and come back when she's awake."

Food was certainly a preferable alternative to obsessing. "It might be awhile. She was pretty out of it when she woke up last time. She called me Jack." And he had screwed it up by calling her on it. Dumbass.

Cassie, however, was unimpressed. "Well, it is your name, isn't it?"

He just shook his head. "You go ahead. I'll be along in a sec."

With a shrug, she headed out the door, leaving Jack once again staring at his second in command and wondering how much longer he could deal with this. He was already messing it up - his stellar overreaction to the Felger incident proved that.

There was no way to undo it, no way to get back to a time where it wouldn't have mattered quite so much. And even if there had been a way, he was just enough a sentimental idiot to not want it.

So he supposed the only thing to do was fall back on what he knew.

Moving stealthily so as not to wake her, Jack managed to slip the blankets off of Carter's feet. In a series of slow, careful movements, he managed to slip a pair of socks on her feet - fuzzy, warm socks. With stripes.

Taking a step back, Jack put his hands in his pockets and studied the picture she made now, strangely content.

It wasn't much. And it wasn't nearly what he wanted.

But it was something.


	36. Turning Heels

Title: Turning Heels

Author: Christi and Katrina

Rating: PG

Timeline: During _Chimera_

Summary: An unexpected event in Sam's life causes her to reevaluate.

Author's Notes: So, we've reached that inevitable point. Luckily, seeing as canon no longer applies, it probably doesn't mean what you think it does.

--

It wasn't until Pete insisted on walking Sam to her door that she realized they had been on a date.

In retrospect, she was sort of dense for not realizing it sooner. But when her brother had called and asked her to do him the little favor of showing his friend around town, she hadn't really thought that much of it. It was the small sort of thing you did for family without asking a lot of questions. But then the friend had turned out to be a recently single guy with time to spare and the overwhelming desire to pick her up for their outing. And pay for lunch. And now, walk her to her door.

Okay, maybe 'sort of dense' was a bit of an understatement.

"This is a nice house," Pete said cheerily as he tried to put his arm on her elbow to lead her up the walk.

Deftly avoiding the contact, Sam shrugged. "I've always liked it."

"Good curb appeal, nice neighborhood..." he continued thoughtfully. "A little small, maybe."

All this prompted was another shrug. "It's fine for me." After all, she barely spent any time there.

"Oh, good," Pete agreed, turning to look at her as they paused on her front stoop. "So, this was great."

It was? Sam searched her mind, trying to figure out when, exactly, she had done anything to merit a 'great' review. "Um, sure," she agreed hesitantly.

"We should do it again sometime," he pushed on.

Damn. Now they were at that awkward part that Sam was completely useless at - the politely crushing all their hopes and dreams part. "Oh. Um. Well, maybe." As his expression brightened, she rushed on to say, "I don't know when though. My work keeps me pretty busy."

Thankfully, while Pete was cheerful and optimistic, he seemed to recognize a brush off when he heard one. "Ah," he said, having the grace to look just disappointed enough without making her any more uncomfortable. "Well, do me a favor: if you suddenly find yourself with an abundance of free time, give me a call."

"Sure," she said lightly before unlocking her door and stepping through. "It was nice to meet you, Pete. Enjoy your time in Colorado Springs."

And then the door was shut and he was gone, allowing Sam to heave a sigh of distinct relief.

"Well, that was awkward," she offered to her empty house as she hung up her keys and slipped off her shoes.

Though it was pretty early, the irritation of today's excursion had drained a lot of her usual energy. Flopping down onto her couch, she drew her feet  
up and stared at them blankly. She couldn't help but wonder why the accidental date with Pete today bothered her so much. He was a nice enough man - cute, well employed, and he had a decent sense of humor.

Of course, the fact that she was listing good qualities about a man like you might a particular breed of dog seemed to say a lot.

But it wasn't just that Pete wasn't a good fit. It was almost like she felt bad about being on a date in the first place, which was ridiculous. She was completely free to date.

Except for the part where she was in love with another man and had essentially been dating him for months.

...Huh.

It was the first time she had really let herself think about her relationship with Jack O'Neill in exactly those terms.

As she stared at her feet, comfortably encased in bright blue socks that had been made by him, she found herself shocked at how calm she felt about the situation.

Jack O'Neill was...well, he was a lot of things. He was grouchy and damaged and technically off-limits. He was also...everything she wanted.

Which raised the inevitable question - what in the world was she doing sitting alone in her empty house?

As simple as that, the decision had been made. Throwing her shoes back on and grabbing her keys, she hopped into her car. She kept thinking during the drive to Jack's house - analyzing it all, because it seemed so abrupt. Except for when she realized that really, her choice wasn't so much abrupt as it was finally accepting the truth of their situation.

Yes, there were regs. Yes, it was a serious thing to break them.

The problem was, for all intents and purposes, the regs had stopped meaning anything to them years ago. Every conversation that took things too far, every cautious admission, every stupid and adorable pair of socks had chipped away at the regs until they had disintegrated around them. Their relationship had already affected their work - sometimes for the worse, admittedly. But usually? Usually for the better.

After all, people always worked better when they enjoyed their jobs. Granted, maybe not in this exact manner, but the logic still held. Sort of.

In the end, it was simple. Even though she had spent Monday through Friday with the man, it was Saturday and there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Pulling into the driveway, she blew out a deep breath, smiling in spite of herself. "Okay, Carter," she muttered as she climbed out of the car, "Don't blow it."

The familiar sound of scuffling feet followed her knock on the door, and before she could really figure out what exactly to say, Jack was standing in front of her. His hair was mussed and his face was full of surprise and she didn't even know how to start explaining that she had finally, finally realized that their unsolvable problem had worked itself out a long time ago.

"I'm wearing socks," she finally began.

His confused blink made a lot of sense, but to his credit he easily stepped aside, letting her in. "Me too," he replied. "They go well with my feet. Though usually, I wear shoes, too. For outside."

"No, I mean that I'm wearing _your_ socks," she clarified.

"Carter, how did you get my socks?" When she pointedly stared at him and slipped a single shoe off, wiggling her toes for good measure, he caught on and nodded. "Ah. And? So? But? Therefore?"

"I went on a date today," she explained, though really, it didn't quite connect.

Jack seemed content enough to follow along anyway, merely raising his eyebrows at this new information. "A date, you say?"

She nodded, rushing to explain. "A date. And okay, I didn't realize it was a date until he was walking me to my door, but then I did realize it was a date. And then I thought about how I didn't want to be on a date. Actually, it made me think about how I shouldn't be on a date because, let's face it, you and I have been dating for months. Maybe years. And I just want you to know that I'm okay with that. In fact, us dating _is_ what I want."

She hadn't really meant to blurt everything out so suddenly, and the look on Jack's face told her that he hadn't expected such a deluge of information either. "I...uh..." he began, then trailed off, dumbfounded.

His lack of response roused one tiny shred of panic - the nagging insecurity of a woman who had no idea how to do this. "Unless...it's not what you want?" she asked.

His almost immediate frown made her smile because God, he didn't even have to think about it. He just _knew_. "You even need to ask?" he muttered.

Feeling so much that she couldn't quite sort it out, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Guess not."

"Damn straight," he affirmed, pulling her even closer with strong arms. "You're really, really sure about this?"

"Would I be here if I wasn't?" she asked.

"I stopped trying to figure you out a long time ago. But my point is...my point is that this isn't a try-it-and-see-if-it-works kind of thing. We do this and there is no rewind button."

The hesitation in his voice - not over her, she was certain, but about what this all might mean for her, for them - had her pull away slightly so she could look him in the eye. "I know," she assured him, tightening her grip around his waist.

After a moment of studying her, he smiled - an all too rare, honest-to-God smile that had her grinning right back at him. "Well," he said softly. "Okay then."

He kissed her then, slowly and thoughtfully and just hot enough to make her toes curl and her fingers a little numb before he pulled away. "So," he drawled lazily, "you want to hang out tonight?"

All she could do was laugh in his shoulder because suddenly, it all sounded so easy - even if it wasn't really at all. "Yes, please."

"Ice cream?"

"Sounds perfect," she agreed.

"Excellent. I'll get my coat."


	37. Double Knitting

Title: Double Knitting

Author: Christi & Katrina

Rating: PG?

Timeline: After _Death Knell_

Summary: Jack takes Sam out on a date. Sort of.

Author's Notes: Uh. Hi.

--

Sue sat back and stared at the check she had just finished signing, not quite believing what she had done. "That's it," she declared, slightly stunned.

"You're kidding," Andrew exclaimed, coming to peer over her shoulder. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. "After eighteen years of business, the mortgage on this building is finally paid off."

It was more than overwhelming, and wiping away a few tears, Sue stopped to consider everything she had put into this little shop. She had opened after the rush of hippie life had worn thin; wanting roots. Living in the apartment above the shop, she had spent years catering to nothing but finicky grandmothers before knitting had somehow become cool again, bringing in a load of enthusiastic next generation customers. She had fallen in love here...and stayed here when everything had all fallen apart. Even now, long after she had bought a house, The Yarn Shop remained her home.

Arms circled her from behind, and she laughed as Andrew engulfed her in a bear hug. "You're amazing," he muttered.

"Thank you," she replied as he pulled away. "Thank all of you. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Frances said softly. "But it's certainly a big achievement."

"Indeed. It calls for a celebration," Sue agreed, going into the back and grabbing the tray of cookies she had arranged last night.

When Kate caught sight of it, she rolled her eyes. "How are cookies unusual here?"

"These are all of our favorites," Sue explained easily, looking over the assortment proudly. Chocolate chip layered with snicker doodles and gingersnaps, surrounded by rings of peanut butter cup and iced sugar cookies all lay ready for the taking.

"Sue, we'll never eat all of that," Frances pointed out with a giggle.

"We most certainly will," Sue corrected her with absolute certainty. "Yesterday I called Jack to tell him that his back ordered yarn was finally in and I invited him."

That certainly put all doubts to rest. Even Kate began to eye the tray with a totally different kind of skepticism. "Huh," Andrew said as he turned to look out the window. "Did he say that he was bringing a friend?"

"Not that I recall, why?"

"See for yourself," Andrew replied, nodding out to the parking lot.

In a predictable rush, everyone swarmed to the glass, peering out at their friend climbing out of his truck and then going around to help a lovely woman who was using crutches out of the passenger side.

"Good lord, they are almost unbearably pretty together," Andrew breathed wistfully.

Sue silently agreed, watching them make their way to the door thoughtfully. "I wonder...I wonder if that's her."

"Sam?" Frances asked, catching on. "We're about to find out."

As the bell rung cheerily, there was an almost comical rush to move back to their usual spots and appear occupied with something other than gawking. Still, Sue bet that Jack was probably completely cognizant of the eyes lingering on him as he held the door open for the unknown woman. She entered gracefully for someone on crutches, and her bright, curious, blue eyes took in the store with a careful eagerness.

"Hey everybody," Jack called as he led the woman to a seat around their table. "This is Carter. Mind if she sits?"

"Of course not, please do," Sue rushed, happily pulling the chair next to her out far enough for 'Carter' to sit down comfortably.

"Thank you," the woman replied with a warm smile as she got situated. Even with them watching, Jack leaned over and whispered something in her ear that made her grin even wider than before she sat down.

"Carter, I'd like you to meet Andrew, Kate, Frances, and Sue," Jack gestured to the four of them, performing the cursory introductions.

A chorus of "hello"s arose from the still somewhat bug-eyed crowd, and she laughed a little before returning a courteous, "Hi."

"Sue owns the joint," Jack explained, moving towards the plate of cookies on the table and grabbing a few. "Hey, catch," he warned before tossing Carter a cookie that she casually snatched out of the air.

"These are amazing," 'Carter' stated after she bit into one. "Who made them?"

"That would be me," Sue answered. "I'm glad you like them. Welcome."

Carter raised her cookie by way of a greeting. "Thanks. Nice to meet you."

"Oh, the pleasure is definitely ours," Andrew interrupted. "You're Sam, right?"

The abrupt question made their visitor's eyebrows raise and she glanced over at Jack, who made a quick escape by darting into the shelves of yarn.

"You've heard of me?"

"Only every visit for...what, three years now?" Kate offered.

"Four," Frances corrected.

Obviously entertained by this revelation, Sam darted a glance toward the back of the store where Jack was now hiding. "Good to know," she finally replied thoughtfully. "Though it certainly leaves me at a disadvantage."

"Don't worry, we'll catch you up," Frances assured her.

"We're not really that complex," Andrew chimed in.

"Speak for yourself," Kate sniped.

"Children, please," Sue intervened with a smile. "Behave in front of the company."

At all of this, Sam just laughed again, a happy sound that you couldn't help but smile in response to. "Why don't we start simple? Like...what do you all do."

"I manage things," Andrew replied promptly. "Being the manager and all. Sue owns. As she's the owner."

"Though why Sue pays him to do exactly what we do while we're here, I'll never understand," Frances pointed out.

"Hey! I organize things. And check people out. And am generally helpful," Andrew objected. "Sue, tell them I'm helpful."

"He's helpful," Sue chimed agreeably.

"That's right," Andrew insisted. "I have to be. Without Sue, I'd be lost."

To be honest, Sue didn't like thinking about how they had met - with Andrew entirely too skinny, living on the streets, more starving than he was an artist. She had brought him home, put him in the shop and never looked back. "Nonsense," she said lightly.

"If you say so," Andrew agreed lightly, obviously not wanting to get into it.

Sam seemed to sense that they wanted to change subjects, and so she turned to Kate. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm a lawyer," Kate answered.

"Really? What kind of law do you practice?"

"Family law."

This bit of information made everyone in the store stop and even Sue couldn't help but stare a bit. "Family law?" she questioned, her voice sounding a bit choked. "I...well, that's certainly surprising."

Frances, who looked equally shocked, nodded. "No kidding."

For her part, Kate seemed confused by their reactions. "I thought you all knew this."

"No, I definitely think I would've remembered something like that," Andrew stated. "Honestly, I could've sworn you were something crazy rough, like a criminal lawyer."

"What? No," Kate admonished, honestly surprised. "Why do you think I needed therapy? Families are _stressful_."

"No arguments here," Frances agreed. Thinking about it, Sue had to admit that Kate made a little bit more sense now.

"Hmm," Sam said neutrally. "And how do you fit into this place, Frances?"

"I'm just the broke college student who can't say no to discounted yarn...or free food."

"Oh, I see," Sam acknowledged, turning to Sue. "So the treats are really just a ploy to get repeat customers."

Offering a sly smile, Sue shrugged. "It hasn't failed me yet."

Eating another cookie, Sam grinned. "Based on the way your cookies taste, I don't imagine that it will anytime soon." After another bite, she turned back to Frances. "So, what are you studying?"

"Medieval history. And physics."

From his chair, Andrew snorted. "Yeah, because those things go together."

The glare Frances shot him was particularly lethal. "That's the point, dumbass."

Attempting to intercede, Sam smoothly stepped in. "You know, I'm a physicist."

Sue blinked, tilting her head. "We didn't know that."

"Four years and it never came up, huh?" Sam asked, obviously finding this funny but not surprising.

"Not once," Andrew admitted. "Strange, that."

"Not really," Sam contradicted. "Jack doesn't like to dwell on the scientist thing."

"Carter is not your usual scientist," Jack chimed in abruptly from somewhere in the back of the store.

"Is there such a thing?" Frances asked, confused.

This amused Sam. "That's what I keep telling him."

Kate studied their visitor carefully. "So. How does a physicist working in Deep Space Telemetry end up on crutches?"

Unperturbed by the question, Sam turned a wide, all-too-innocent expression on her. "Oh, you'd be surprised how treacherous Deep Space Telemetry can be."

Frances just groaned. "Worst cover story _ever_."

While Sue might have expected Sam to object or try and convince them otherwise, she just laughed again, eating another cookie in serene silence. Of course, this did not go unnoticed by Frances and Kate, who exchanged meaningful glances.

Eager to avoid any more conspiracy theory talk, Andrew rushed in to change the subject. "So, tell us once and for all: what exactly is the deal with you and Jack?"

"What has he told you?" Sam asked. Sue thought it interesting that this, of all things, was a subject she was cautious about.

"Nothing," Andrew griped.

"Not true!" Jack objected, still lost in the yarn somewhere.

"Well, _practically_ nothing," Andrew corrected, whining a bit. "Certainly nothing fun, anyway."

"Well, that's not surprising," Sam mused, "Seeing as there wasn't really anything fun until recently."

The last part of that sentence certainly caught everyone's attention. "So, you are actually, _finally_, dating?"

"It depends who you ask. I say yes. He says..."

At this, Jack poked his head around a shelf. "I am too damn old to be described as anyone's boyfriend."

"I'm sure we could come up with another word for it," Andrew said cheerily. "Significant other."

"Too generic," Jack frowned.

"Sweetheart?" Sue suggested.

"Too...sweet."

"Beau?" Kate offered.

"I'm not a character in _Gone with the Wind_. So no."

"Partner?" was Frances option.

"Too work-related," was Jack's objection.

"Lover?" Sam suggested with sly, teasing grin.

If Sue didn't know better, she would have sworn that Jack O'Neill actually blushed. "Much too specific," he chastized before disappearing behind another rack of yarn. "And technically untrue!"

"Wait, what?" Andrew exclaimed, looking completely dumbfounded. "You two aren't...?"

Now Sam was the one blushing - somehow, her little joke had come back to bite her in the ass. "Not yet," she offered tentatively.

"I don't mean to be rude, but what's taking you so long?" Andrew insisted.

"Would you believe me if I said that honestly, there hasn't been time?" Sam offered, laughing a little. "I guess...I don't have any plans to let him go. Pretty much ever. So what's the rush?"

"Rush?" Andrew insisted. "It's been years. Your self control is insane. I mean...look at the man."

Sam leaned forward, a smirk on her face. "I've had to work with him every day for the past seven years. Believe me when I say _I know_."

A noise came from a few rows a way. "You know, I can hear you!" Jack whined before stepping into view, a petulant look on his face. "Why is everyone so interested in this anyway? It was bound to happen. And now it has. The end. Andrew, I'm ready to go."

Andrew placed a hand on Sam's shoulder as he walked to the cash register. "His self control, on the other hand, is obviously wearing thin."

Sam returned the smirk, but remained silent as Jack muttered under his breath and paid for his various items. "I guess this means we're out of here," she said, reaching for her crutches and moving to stand. Once she was upright she gave another bright smile. "It was great to meet all of you."

"Please, come see us again," Sue offered.

"I will," Sam assured, moving to follow Jack to the exit.

"Bring Jack if you want to," Frances teased.

Jack opened the door for Sam and she neatly moved outside. He turned and waved, an amused smile on his face. "Have a good day, guys."

A chorus of good-byes followed as he spun and exited.

"I love our customers," Andrew said airily, leaning on the counter, his head cradled in his hand.


	38. Knitting Without Tears

Title: Knitting Without Tears

Authors: Christi and Katrina

Rating: PG

Timeline: During and Post-_Heroes_

Summary: With knitting, some things change. Others, sadly, do not.

Author's Notes: Poor Cassie.

Being summoned to the Principal's office was never a good thing, but with Cassie, it was something more than worrying about impending academic catastrophe. Cassie never worried about school - she worried about everything else.

Janet would never bother her at school unless it was the worst - injuries, after all, could wait.

Death never did.

The hallway seemed interminably long, stretching out in a dizzying, unforgiving path of fluorescent lighting and the echo of her own footsteps. Everything was louder, harsher and yet she didn't want to get to the office. Once she did, it would all be real - not just some knot in the pit of her stomach.

Her brain raced through the options, trying to imagine life without Sam's constant warmth or Jack's awkward love, Daniel's insight and Teal'c's innate understanding. It was a prospect that she couldn't quite grasp, and trying to didn't do anything to quell the rising sense of panic.

Then she turned the corner and saw Sam standing there instead of Janet, her face blotchy with tears. And Cassie knew immediately what had happened - not the details, but the important part.

The part where Janet was never coming home again.

One sad, single truth that was a little too horrible to handle - even for a girl who had already lived through the end of a world.

Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if hands hadn't grabbed her from behind - Jack's hands. How could they be so strong and still shake like that?

Not that it mattered. Right now, little did. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered, voice hoarse.

"It never is," Jack replied grimly.

Then Sam was hugging them and Cassie was crying and the world went a bit blurry.

It was shallow, but Cassie found herself strangely grateful that only authorized personnel were allowed to attend the memorial service. Somehow, the limitation kept it personal - kept it within the family, so to speak. There wasn't a swamp of well meaning, half-known neighbors or curious high schoolers looking on, pretending to grieve for a woman they hadn't really known.

The pain in this room was real. It was unfiltered. And somehow, that helped.

Sam was still reading her list of names - people who were alive thanks to Janet. Was it bad that in that one moment, Cassie would have traded them all to have her back?

The last guest was gone and the house was silent, and while Cassie should have felt relieved, she honestly was distracted by feeling overwhelmed with the array of casserole dishes that were scattered across what seemed like every available surface of Jack's kitchen.

From behind her, she could sense Sam hanging about the door, and Cassie couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Is this an Earth thing? Someone dies, so the survivors get a casserole filled with whatever indefinable mush someone can throw together?"

"You know, it's not any rule that I've ever learned, but now that you mention it, I remember eating a lot of casseroles after my mom died, too," Sam replied.

That, Cassie understood - some traditions were meant to be followed.

Of course, she thought again as she eyed a pile of green and brown goo in one of the pans, weren't rules made to be broken?

"Can we pitch it all and order Chinese food?" she asked.

"Sounds good to me," Sam agreed.

-

Somehow, it was decided without any conversation that the weekend was going to be spent at Jack's house, and while part of Cassie just wanted her bed and the comforting blue walls of Janet's kitchen, it was a good thing in the long run. Spending time in her mother's house with anyone else was just a little too raw yet - Cassie couldn't help but think that Sam would ruin the sanctity of the quiet blue kitchen with cheery morning humming. Which was a weird thing to begrudge her, but Cassie had always loved that Janet was just as dysfunctional as herself before coffee.

The idea that from now on, she was going to be living with a morning person - the kind of person who got up early to run, who was showered and eating before Cassie was really ready to string together two sensible words in a row - was weirdly more unbearable than a million other bigger problems.

She tried not to glare at Sam too much as she maneuvered around the kitchen to make breakfast.

Cassie was pretty sure that Sam noticed anyway and just didn't say anything.

It was well into the second day of their stay before Cassie realized that Jack and Sam were together.

Not that they were being particularly discreet about it - once she had put together the pieces, every casual brush of their hands, Jack's concerned glance and the way Sam tried not to smile when he stood just a little too close all stood out in bold contrast to the otherwise somber weekend air. "When did that happen?" she asked Sam when Jack stepped out for a grocery run.

Not bothering to play ignorant, Sam just shrugged. "Awhile ago."

Thinking about it was a pleasant sort of distraction - a spot of unapologetic sunshine in an otherwise gray world. "Did Mom know?"

"Not unless she figured it out," was Sam's reply. "There was no need to put her in a weird position at work."

"How could it have been any weirder than it was before?" Cassie wondered. "She already knew that you loved each other."

The bald statement left a trace of a smile around Sam's mouth - an easy, settled smile that Cassie couldn't help be jealous of. "Loving each other was never the problem."

Janet had told her once that love never _was_ a problem. It was people that got in the way.

Watching them became an entertaining sort of game - not because they were funny or over the top or awkward, but because it was easier than thinking about anything else. Cassie had never really realized how worried she had been about how they would make a relationship work, but in watching them, she found herself relieved.

They were just themselves. But with each other.

Jack was quieter than usual, and Cassie could hardly blame him - he'd seen enough funerals in his lifetime. It was Sam who really worried Cassie, though. Sam, who was being so strong and so wonderful about everything, still seemed a step or two away from completely falling apart.

She finally did, of course, over a basket of laundry and a pair of pink socks. Her tears were loud and unapologetic, encompassing grief for the friend she would miss terribly, for Cassie who had lost another mother, and even a little for her own mother, long ago lost but never quite forgotten.

It was exactly the sort of grief that Cassie couldn't handle right now.

Luckily, Jack was there, easily gathering Sam up in a hug that dared the world to intrude, warm and reassuring and alive.

Seeing them curled together like that made her think of being with Janet - of how angry they could get or how silly they could be and how things could be simple and complicated all at the same time.

Love, as it turned out, looked surprisingly similar in everyone.

When she returned to the den later in the evening, Cassie found Sam calmer, curled under a blanket and quietly watching Jack knit. Feeling needy, Cassie insinuated herself between them, wrapped in Sam's arms and pressed against Jack's side and slowly feeling just enough better that she could breathe. "You're fast," she remarked, watching Jack.

Her observation made him smile. "I've had a lot of practice these past few years."

"Oh, you love it," she chided lightly.

"Never said I didn't," he admitted. "You need anything?"

"Jack," Cassie sighed, "I know you're just worried and being helpful, but that question is all I've heard this weekend. No more, please."

"Fair enough," he allowed.

After a short silence punctuated by little more than Sam's even breathing and the clicking of his needles as they worked the yarn, Sam asked, "Have you decided what you want to do?"

"It's my choice?" Cassie asked, surprised.

"If you want it to be," Sam allowed. "I know you're only a junior yet, but in a lot of ways, you're practically grown. It's not our place to make major life decisions for you. Whatever we do, we do together."

Well, Janet would never have done that. But Cassie found it rather comforting. "I'd like to stay in the house," she ventured. "At least for awhile."

Sure, people would talk. They'd say it wasn't healthy. But right now, that house was still home, and it would be until the lingering ghost of Janet wore thin. "Okay. I'll sell my house," Sam agreed.

"Just like that?" Cassie asked.

"Just like that."

"What about you?" Cassie asked, glancing up at Jack.

"I stay here. You guys come over whenever you want. We work the rest out later."

Watching him loop yarn through itself, back and forth, over and over, Cassie could believe that it would really all be that simple. "Hey - could you teach me?"

"To knit?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah," she confirmed. The idea of a tiny little universe of loops that she could create and control appealed to her just then.

Her first project was a mess. But Jack said it was supposed to be, and it was easy to believe him.

-

Watching the stars come out as she sat on Jack's roof deck, Cassie thought that the so-called infinite universe could seem surprisingly small. After all, hadn't she traveled millions of light years just to end up in exactly the same spot?

Well, she had managed once. She had loved her mother, her world, her life. When it had all fallen apart, she had come here and loved this.

Janet had told her that love was never a problem.

So as she stared at the sky, Cassie tried to imagine a new life that she could learn to love. She couldn't quite see it yet. And it would probably take a good long while.

But it was there. Somewhere.


	39. Frog Me

Title: Frog Me

Author: Katrina and Christi

Rating: NC-17

Timeline: Somewhere around _Inauguration_

Summary: They finally get around to it. And then some.

Author's Notes: Gratuitous sex. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing - you won't miss anything important.

Overall, Jack's To Do List for today had been pretty standard Saturday fare - finish knitting a pair of socks, watch a couple games followed by a few too many episodes of The Simpsons, and maybe even fire up his trusty grill for the first barbeque of the season.

But now, with his delectable second-in-command's tongue in his mouth, Jack had an inkling that his plans for today were about to experience a radical overhaul.

Not that you'd hear him complain.

-

"You really like green food, don't you?"

When Sam turned to look at him, her expression was a priceless combination of long-suffering and amusement. Teasing, she waved a head of broccoli in front of his face. "I don't see what the problem is here."

Jack had to consider before responding, eyeing the pile of vegetables in his cart that he didn't recognize as being produce available on Earth. "I'm not sure problem is the right word. Concern, maybe?"

"Vegetables are good for you, Jack. Woman cannot live on beer alone."

Maybe woman couldn't, but Jack was willing to bet that man could manage just fine. Instead of making this argument though, Jack simply shifted the subject. (After all, when in doubt, diversion was always your best option.) So he picked up one of the more unidentifiable items and studied it. "How do you even cook something like this?"

"That's for you to figure out," she replied lightly, taking it from him and returning it to the cart.

This new information opened a whole host of new potential problems. "Somehow, I feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick here."

"Trust me, you're not," she assured him, commandeering the cart and proceeding down the next aisle.

"How do you figure?"

"Easy," she replied lightly. "You surprise me by cooking some of this. Then I surprise you."

"With…?" he asked leadingly.

Her expression was perfectly, delightfully evil. "Now if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

And then she sashayed away. _Sashayed_.

He was so in over his head with this woman.

Carter was straddling his lap and her shirt was off. He'd done that, right? He couldn't remember, but it didn't matter because this was Carter. On top of him. And he was pretty sure that for once he was actually allowed to touch anything and everything he wanted.

He ran his hands down her long, smooth back, gripping her hips and trying to think about anything but the slow, rolling movement of her hips on top of his. "I have to say," he mumbled between kisses, "I don't remember physical therapy ever having quite this effect on you before."

She pulled away with a wide grin. "No more PT. I'm all healed up." She then proceeded to do some kind of crazy bending, finger flicking thing that had her bra off faster than he could really process.

"And then some," he groaned happily before his hands covered the breasts that he had spent more hours thinking about than he was willing to admit.

Judging from the happy hum that came from the back of her throat as his hands found her hardened nipples, Carter was just fine with his plan of attack.

Daniel was rambling on about...something. Again. Which was fine, because it left Jack plenty of time to ponder other things. Like Cassie's upcoming track meet. Or training with Teal'c this afternoon. Or possibly having sex with Carter after work. On his kitchen floor. Though that might be cold with the tile and all.

Well, there was always the Big Blanket of Doom. He was pretty sure it was big enough. Mentally judging sizes, Jack concluded that it would work. Problem solved. Unfortunately, all of his plotting could be for nothing, if Sam's expression as she sat down at their table was any indication.

"You look chipper," Daniel observed wryly.

She just wrinkled her nose by way of response, taking a big bite of her sandwich.

"Are you well, Samantha Carter?" Teal'c inquired.

"Oh, I'm fine." At their silence she added, "It's just that selling my house is a pain."

Ah. She must've been on the phone with the realtor again. Rita was one of those irritating women with big hair and a bigger cloud of perfume following her around. She'd also been pestering Carter most of the week.

"It can't be that bad," Daniel placated.

The glare she sent Daniel's way made Jack curb a smile. Trying to play the dutiful savior, Jack selflessly pushed his plate of chocolate cake in her direction with his fork. "Cake?"

Her gaze lingered on the cake for a moment before her expression softened and she smiled up at him, visibly relaxing a bit. "Thanks," she said, taking a bite. "Sorry for the mood, guys."

Glad to have cheered her up, Jack smiled smugly at Daniel (who was blinking in blank confusion) and Teal'c (who had his usual one eyebrow raised) before turning back to his lunch.

After all, he had to keep his energy up. The kitchen floor was waiting.

Carter was kissing his neck. And his chest. And unbuckling his fly. On his couch.

Never mind that he was about three decades too old for couch sex. Never mind that his couch was leather and there would inevitably be sticking issues. What really mattered was that Samantha Carter was on top of him, half-naked and practically vibrating with eagerness.

"Just to be clear," he managed through the haze quickly taking over his mind, "you came over to seduce me, right? Because if this is a bizarre space-related thing, well..." He might cry. Manly tears of very blue balls.

As his fingers slipped under the waistband of her pants and found her wet, she actually yelped, losing focus and falling on top of him with a desperate thrust of her pelvis. "God, _Jack_," she gasped, gripping his shirt and releasing it almost spasmodically. "Pants off. And don't stop doing-" her orders trailed off as he flicked his fingers again. Sam let out some cross between a moan and a chuckle that actually made his dick twitch

Now riding his hand with a growing urgency, "Jack, _please_," she begged, whispering in his ear. "Just take off your pants."

Completely lost, Jack figured that was close enough of a 'yes' to count.

There was no point in checking the clock again, Jack reminded himself as he stared at a senseless jumble of numbers and letters that were supposed to be his latest mission report. He'd checked it five minutes ago. And a few minutes before that. No matter how hard he stared, time wasn't going to any faster.

Even if he really wanted it to.

At least he wasn't alone – judging from Carter's repeated sighs as she worked, he wasn't the only one anxious to get home. As she stopped fiddling with whatever piece of alien machinery in her lap to glance at the clock, Jack had to suppress the impulse to grin. "Half an hour left," he supplied easily.

Seeming a bit embarrassed at being caught, Sam glared at him. "Are you finished with your latest mission report?"

"Finished enough," he assured her. Reports were boring. Thinking about what would happen when they got home was much more fun. "How's your alien stuff coming along?"

She grinned, leaning against the table. "It's not."

"No?" he asked with feigned innocence.

"No," she confirmed with mock sincerity. "I can't imagine why."

Was it wrong that knowing he was actually distracting her from science was a huge turn-on?

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your point of view), Daniel arrived just then, putting an immediate damper to any regulation breaking thoughts. "Knock knock," he said needlessly before barging into Sam's lab.

"Hey Daniel," Sam chirped, obviously happy to see him.

"Almost done?" Daniel asked, examining the…whatever it was Carter had been working on.

"For today, anyway," she confirmed.

"Great! So, you have any plans tonight? Because I thought we could grab dinner."

No. Nonono. They had plans, dammit. Important and blessedly naked plans that Daniel sure as hell was not invited to.

For a person who worked in a top secret facility, Sam Carter was not a good liar under pressure. "Oh," was all she came up with at first. "I, um, was actually thinking of ordering in."

"That could work, too," Daniel pressed. "Rent a movie, get some Chinese food…."

Daniel was being pushy. Was Daniel always this pushy? Judging from Sam's wrinkled brow, Jack was guessing not. "I really appreciate the offer, Daniel. But I think I'm okay for tonight. Maybe next week?" Was that annoyance he heard?

Daniel's eyebrows jumped. "Next week? For someone who doesn't have any plans-"

"I'm busy!" Sam interrupted, obviously a bit louder than she'd intended.

Daniel leaned forward, completely unfazed. "How busy?"

"Daniel…" Sam said warningly.

"Sam?" Daniel met her stare evenly, obviously trying not to smile.

Jack watched the showdown in interest, wondering if this was always how they were when he wasn't around. "Very busy," she finally reiterated calmly.

"Uh huh," Daniel adjusted his glasses, but still didn't back down. When had he gotten so hard to handle? Jack tried to think back and realized that he always had been.

As Jack watched, Carter's expression changed, showing a trace of worry. "You're okay, right? You're just giving me shit, not actually asking for company?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Daniel agreed a little too sweetly, as he stood up straight again. "I just wanted to let you know that I know."

Now that got Jack's attention, and he gaped at the archeologist a bit. Did Daniel know what Jack thought Daniel knew?

"You could have just said," Sam muttered, glaring a bit around her smile.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Daniel teased.

Feeling a bit over his head, Jack looked from Daniel to Sam and then back again. "Does Teal'c know?" he asked, curious now that the topic was on the table.

"Who do you think told me?" Daniel pointed out.

"Right," Sam shook her head and motioned to her lab door, ushering him out. "Of course he did."

Daniel lingered in the doorway, still gloating. "Obvious?" she asked Daniel.

"Nah," he reassured her.

"You're sure?"

"Well, to Teal'c."

That made them all pause, sharing a look.

"So we're good then," Jack confirmed.

"Yup!" Daniel confirmed, heading out the door. "Have a good weekend, guys."

"Oh, we will!" Jack drawled, grinning a bit.

Pants. Pants off now. Of course, kicking them off was easier said than done, so they ended up somewhere around his knees. Luckily, Carter was more spry than he was so by the time he got back to her she was finally, blessedly naked.

He stopped for one minute – one perfectly painful minute – just to savor the picture she made. But before she could even fully form a complaint, he was there, pushing her back onto the sofa with a groan and slipping down to linger over her stomach.

And run his hands up her legs.

And just taste her right-

But before he could get that far, she yanked his head up, capturing his mouth again in a long, hot kiss that made him forget what he had been doing. "Jack," she muttered as her lips wandered to his ear.

"Wuh?" he managed.

"We've had _years_ of foreplay. Sex now."

As she brushed up against him, her wet heat made his brain completely stop. There was no point in arguing with the smartest person he knew anyway. So, with a slight shift he was there and it was….

It was completely worth the wait.

As they started moving together (awkwardly at first, then better, then really, really…), Jack had exactly enough brainpower left for one thought. "Shit. Carter. This isn't going to take long."

She managed to smile somehow, that brilliant blinding smile. "Just don't stop," she managed, kissing him and wrapping her long legs around him before she came.

He managed to gasp a breath and thank whatever God there was before he followed her.

"She's so fast!" Jack exclaimed, watching Cassie sprint around the track with awe.

"It is All State, Jack. She didn't get here by luck of the draw."

"I know," he replied. "I just didn't…know."

"It always takes me by surprise," a voice next to them chimed in. When they turned to look, they realized it was one of the coaches, a friendly woman of about 50. "I remember being that energetic, but it seems like a long time ago now."

Now, there was a truth that hit a little too close to home, Jack thought wryly. "Tell me about it," he muttered.

She just laughed, holding out her hand. "Cynthia Dalton, Assistant Coach. Which kid are you rooting for?"

"Cassandra Fraiser. The one who's winning," Jack added proudly.

"Oh, she's a crowd favorite. And a great kid. You're two lucky parents," Cynthia said.

"Oh, no, we're…" he started to correct her, and then Cassie crossed the finish line and all else was forgotten.

Besides, they _were_ lucky.

He had been right. The leather was sticking.

Now ask him if he cared.

Beneath him, still trying to catch her breath, Carter was...laughing? When he managed to find the energy to lift up his head enough to raise an eyebrow at her, she just laughed harder. "We're worse than teenagers," she pointed out.

He grinned before kissing her lazily. "Young at heart?"

"Horny," she replied.

"Well, that too," he admitted. "But we've earned it."

"And then some," she agreed with a smile, kissing his nose before pushing him back so she could sit up and wrap the Blanket of Doom around her. "What do you say to a relocation?"

"Someplace more grown up?" he suggested, trying to stand up and tripping over his pants.

Through her giggles, she stood, letting the blanket fall off of her to offer him a hand. After a moment's grumbling, he took it – and pulled her down to the floor with him, rolling her onto her back.

She was laughing, slapping his arm. "What happened to someplace more grown up?" she asked a little breathlessly as he skimmed down her body.

"Being grown up is overrated," Jack murmured before moving on to better things.


End file.
